mmfsmm 



6;LeCT10N.S FROM 
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THOReHU 



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©lap* (ItpQngl^t Ifc. 



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The above ten i2mo volumes, $15.00 ; half calf, $27.50. 
SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. With Biblic«raphy. 

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THOREAU^S THOUGHTS 



SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS 
OF HENRY DAVID THOREAU 



H. G. O. 



KDITIID BY 



BLAKE 



We shall one day see that t e most private is the most public 
energy, that quality atones for c aantity, and grandeur of character 
acts in the dark, and succors th jm who never saw it. 

Emerson 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

1890 






^^ 



Copyright, 1890, 
Bv H. G. O. i3LAKE. 

All rights ^reserved. 



r' 



h 



\\ ( 



1 



The Riverside Press, Cambr idge, Mass. , U.S.A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. < 3. Houghton & Company. 



INTRODUCTORY. 



In selecting the following passages from 
Thoreau's printed works, for the use of 
those who are already interested in him, 
and to win, if possible, new admirers of 
what has given me so pure and unfailing a 
satisfaction for now more than forty years, 
I desired to make a pocket volume, contain- 
ing beautiful and helpful thoughts, which 
one might not only read in retirement, but 
use as a traveling companion, or vade me- 
cum, while waiting at a hotel, railway sta- 
tion, or elsewhere, — something even more 
convenient and ready at hand than the 
newspaper. I would furnish an antidote 
to the dissipating, depressing influence of 
too much newspaper reading, something 
which instead of filling the mind with gos- 



IV IN TROD UCTOR Y. 

sip, political strife and misstatement, ath- 
letics, pugilism, accounts of shocking acci- 
dents, and every kind of criminality, may 
refresh us with a new sense of the beauty 
of the world, and make us feel how truly 
life is worth living. 

*' O world as God has made it, all is beauty ; 
And knowing this is love, and love is duty." 

The truth expressed in these lines of 
Browning, which seems to me the highest 
wisdom, and so the essence of religion, was 
no transient dream with Thoreau, but a 
deep conviction which took possession of 
him early in life, never to be relinquished, 
and which he resolved as far as possible 
to realize, in spite of the false usages and 
allurements of the ' world as ' man ' has 
made it.' Though, faithful to his idea, he 
felt obliged to stand somewhat apart from 
the society about him, yet his strong and 
active interest in the anti-slavery move- 
ment, and his instant appreciation and 
public defense of Captain John Brown, 
show clearly how sensitive he was to the 



INTRODUCTORY, V 

tie of humanity. It is the close alliance 
or unity of Thoreau's genius and personal 
character which gives such power to his 
words for the purpose I have in view, 
namely, to awaken or revive our interest 
in the worthiest things, to lift us above the 
world of care and sadness into that fairer 
world which is always waiting to receive us. 
I would express here my obligations to 
Dr. Samuel A. Jones, of Ann Arbor, Mi- 
chigan, for the free use of his ^' Biblio- 
graphy,'* which has been with him indeed 
a labor of love, and which, I am sure, will 
add much to the value and attractiveness 
of this volume. 

THE EDITOR. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 



The best kind Reading, in a high sense, is not 
of reading, ^j^^j. ^^ich lulls US as a luxury 
and suffers the nobler faculties to sleep the 
while, but what we have to stand on tiptoe 
to read and devote our most alert and 
wakeful hours to. walden, p. 113. 

Society in ^ hzYQ uever felt lonesome, or 

solitude. jj^ ^YiQ least oppressed by a sense 
of solitude, but once, and that was a few 
weeks after I came to the woods, when, for 
an hour, I doubted if the near neighbor- 
hood of man was not essential to a serene 
and healthy Hfe. To be alone was some- 
thing unpleasant. But I was at the same 
time conscious of a slight insanity in my 
mood, and seemed to foresee my recovery. 
In the midst of a gentle rain, while these 
thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly sensi- 
ble of such sweet and beneficent society 
in Nature, in the very pattering of the 



2 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

drops, and in every sound and sight around 
my house, an infinite and unaccountable 
friendliness all at once like an atmosphere 
sustaining me, as made the fancied advan- 
tages of human neighborhood insignificant, 
and I have never thought of them since. 
Every little pine needle expanded and 
swelled with sympathy and befriended me. 
I was so distinctly made aware of the pres- 
ence of something kindred to me, even in 
scenes which we are accustomed to call 
wild and dreary, and also that the nearest 
of blood to me and humanest was not a 
person nor a villager, that I thought no 
place could ever be strange to me again. 

Walden, p. 143. 

The best What sort of space is that which 

hood. separates a man from his fellows 

and makes him solitary } I have found that 
no exertion of the legs can bring two minds 
much nearer to one another. What do we 
want most to dwell near to } Not to 
many men surely, the depot, the post-of- 
fice, the bar-room, the meeting-house, the 
school-house, the grocery. Beacon Hill, or 
the Five Points, where men most congre- 
gate, but to the perennial source of our 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 3 

life, whence in all our experience we have 
found that to issue, as the willow stands 
near the water and sends out its roots in 
that direction. This will vary with differ- 
ent natures, but this is the place where a 
wise man will dig his cellar. walden.p 144. 

Our nearest ^uy prospcct of awakcuing or 
neighbor. comiug to life to a dead man 
makes indifferent all times and places. 
The place where that may occur is always 
the same, and indescribably pleasant to 
all our senses. For the most part we al- 
low only outlying and transient circum- 
stances to make our occasions. They are, 
in fact, the cause of our distraction. Near- 
est to all things is that power which fash- 
ions their being. Next to us the grandest 
laws are continually being executed. Next 
to us is not the workman whom we have 
hired, with whom we love so well to talk, 
but the workman whose work we are. 

Walden, p. 145. 



Our double However intense my experi- 
nature. eucc, I am couscious of the pres- 
ence and criticism of a part of me, which, 
as it were, is not a part of me, but specta- 



4 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

tor, sharing no experience, but taking note 
of it ; and that is no more I than it is you. 
When the play, it may be the tragedy, of 
life is over, the spectator goes his way. It 
was a kind of fiction, a work of the imagi- 
nation only, so far as he was concerned. 
This doubleness may easily make us poor 
neighbors and friends sometimes. 

Walden, p. 146. 

The most ^ ncvcr found the companion 

compan^o?- that was SO companionablc as 
^^'^* solitude. We are for the most 

part more lonely when we go abroad among 
men than when we stay in our chambers. 

Walden, p. 147. 

Too much Society is commonly too cheap. 

shallow , 

intercourse. Wc mcct at vcry short inter- 
vals, not having had time to acquire any 
new value for each other. We live thick 
and are in each other's way, and stumble 
over one another, and I think that we thus 
lose some respect for one another. Cer- 
tainly less frequency would suffice for all 
important and hearty communications. 
The value of a man is not in his skin, that 
we should touch him. walden, p. 147. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 5 

The value of I ^ave a great deal. of company 
solitude. jj^ j^y house ; especially in the 
morning, when nobody calls. I am no 
more lonely than the loon in the pond that 
laughs so loud, or than Walden Pond itself. 
What company has that lonely lake, I 
pray ? And yet it has not the blue devils, 
but the blue angels in it, in the azure tint 
of its waters. God is alone, — but the 
devil, he is far from being alone ; he sees a 
great deal of company ; he is legion. 

Walden, p. 148. 



Sympathy of The indcscribable innocence 
t'eTui^n^ and beneficence of Nature, — of 
/^^®' sun and wind and rain, of sum- 

mer and winter, — such health, such cheer, 
they afford forever ! and such sympathy 
have they ever with our race, that all Na- 
ture would be affected, and the sun's 
brightness fade, and the winds would sigh 
humanely, and the clouds rain tears, and 
the woods shed their leaves and put on 
mourning in midsummer, if any man should 
ever for a just cause grieve. Shall I not 
have intelligence with the earth } Am I 
not partly leaves and vegetable mould my- 

gg]f ? Walden, p, 149. 



6 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

Hebe pre- I am HO worshiper of Hygeia, 

Hygeia. who was the daughter of that old 
herb - doctor -^sculapius, but rather of 
Hebe, cupbearer to Jupiter, who was the 
daughter of Juno and wild lettuce, and w^ho 
had the power of restoring gods and men 
to the vigor of youth. She was probably 
the only thoroughly sound -conditioned, 
healthy, and robust young lady that ever 
walked the globe, and wherever she came, 
it was spring. walden, p. 150. 

Animal food It is hard to provide and cook 

offends the , . , . 

imagination. SO Simple and clean a diet as will 
not offend the imagination ; but this, I 
think, is to be fed when we feed the body ; 
they should both sit down at the same ta- 
ble. It may be vain to ask why the imagi- 
nation will not be reconciled to flesh and 
fat. I am satisfied that it is not. What- 
ever my own practice may be, I have no 
doubt that it is a part of the destiny of the 
human race, in its gradual improvement, 
to leave off eating animals, as surely as 
the savage tribes have left off eating each 
other when they came in contact with the 
more civilized. waldhn, p. 232. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 



The slight- The faintest assured objection 
t?oVs''or^' which one healthy man feels will 
?obe^^'''''^ at length prevail over the argu- 
regarded. nients and customs of mankind. 
No man ever followed his genius till it 
misled him. Though the result were bodily 
weakness, yet perhaps no one can say that 
the consequences were to be regretted, for 
these were a life in conformity to higher 
principles. If the day and the night are 
such that you greet them with joy, and life 
emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet- 
scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, 
more immortal, — that is your success. 
All nature is your congratulation, and you 
have cause momentarily to bless yourself. 
The greatest gains and values are farthest 
from being appreciated. We easily come 
to doubt if they exist. We soon forget 
them. They are the highest reality. Per- 
haps the facts most astounding and most 
real are never communicated by man to 
man. The true harvest of my daily life 
is somewhat as intangible and indescrib- 
able as the tints of morning or evening. 
It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of 
the rainbow which I have clutched. 

Walden, p. 233. 



8 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

Inspiration Who has Hot sometimes derived 
palate. an inexpressiblc satisfaction from 

his food in which appetite had no share ? 
I have been thrilled to think that I owed 
a mental perception to the commonly gross 
sense of taste, that I have been inspired 
through the palate, that some berries which 
I had eaten on a hill-side had fed my ge- 

jjJug^ Walden, p. 234. 

The quality Hc who distinguishcs the true 

of the appe- r 1 • r i 1 

tite makes savor of his f ood Can never be a 

the sensual- . , , , 

ist. glutton ; he who does not can- 

not be otherwise. A puritan may go to 
Jiis brown -bread crust with as gross an 
appetite as ever an alderman to his turtle. 
Not that food which entereth into the 
mouth defileth a man, but the appetite 
with which it is eaten ; it is neither the 
quantity nor the quality, but the devotion 
to sensual savors. walden, p. 235. 

The moral O^i* wholc life is startlingly 

Safureand moral. Thcrc is never an in- 
^'^^* stant's truce between virtue and 

vice. Goodness is the only investment 
that never fails. In the music of the 
harp that trembles round the world it is 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, g 

the insisting on this which thrills us. 
Though the youth at last grows indifferent, 
the laws of the universe are not indiffer- 
ent, but are forever on the side of the 
most sensitive. Listen to every zephyr 
for some reproof, for it is surely there, and 
he is unfortunate who does not hear it. 
We cannot touch a string or move a stop 
but the charming moral transfixes us. 
Many an irksome noise, go a long way off, 
is heard as music, a proud sweet satire on 
the meanness of our lives. walden, p. 235. 



' Delicacy of " That iu which men differ from 

the distinc- , ,, ht • 

tion between brutc bcasts, says Mencius, *'is 

men and . • i i i i 

beasts. a thmg very inconsiderable ; the 

common herd lose it very soon ; superior 
men preserve it carefully." walden, p. 236. 

Purity in- Chastity is the flowering of 

soul. man ; and what are called Genius, 

Heroism, Holiness, and the like, are but 
various fruits which succeed it. Man flows 
at once to God when the channel of purity 
is open. By turns our purity inspires and 
our impurity casts us down. He is blessed 
who is assured that the animal is dying 
out in him day by day, and the divine being 
established. walden, p. 236. 



lO SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Purity and ^^ scHsuality is OHC, though it 
eaciTa sin- takcs matiy forms ; all purity is 
gie thing. ^^^^ j^ jg ^j^^ same whether a 

man eat, or drink, or sleep sensually. 
They are but one appetite, and we only 
need to see a person do any one of these 
things to know how great a sensualist he is. 
The impure can neither stand nor sit with 
purity. When the reptile is attacked at 
one mouth of his burrow, he shows himself 
at another. walden, p. 237. 

Work a help ^^ Y^^ would avoid uncleanness, 
against sin. ^^^ ^ ^j^^ gj^g^ work earnestly, 

though it be at cleaning a stable. Nature 
is hard to be overcome, but she must be 
overcome. walden, p. 237. 

Every one Evcry man is the builder of a 

a sculptor, ^emplc, callcd his body, to the 
god he worships, after a style purely his 
own, nor can he get off by hammering 
marble instead. We are all sculptors and 
painters, and our material is our own flesh 
and blood and bones. Any nobleness be- 
gins at once to refine a man's features, any 
meanness or sensuality to imbrute them. 

Walden, p. 238. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, II 

Thepurifica- ^ voice Said to him [John Far- 
louigiv^esit mer], — Why do you stay here 
a new life. ^^^ jj^^ ^j^jg mean moiUng Ufe, 

when a glorious existence is possible for 
you ? Those same stars twinkle over other 
fields than these. But how to come out 
of this condition and actually migrate 
thither? All he could think of was to 
practice some new austerity, to let his 
mind descend into his body and redeem 
it, and treat himself with ever increasing 
respect. walden, p. 239. 

Strike at the Thcrc are a thousand hacking 

root of social - .- - 

ills by puri- at the branches of evil to one who 

fying your . 

own life. IS striking at the root, and it may 
be that he who bestows the largest amount 
of time and money on the needy is doing 
the most by his mode of life to produce 
that misery which he strives in vain to re- 
lieve. It is the pious slave-breeder devot- 
ing the proceeds of every tenth slave to 
buy a Sunday's liberty for the rest. Some 
show their kindness to the poor by em- 
ploying them in their kitchens. Would 
they not be kinder if they employed them- 
selves there } walden, p. 83. 



12 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

Overflowing I do Hot valuc chiefly a man's 
chlrity^ uprightness and benevolence, 
rmuhitlfde which are, as it were, his stem 
° ^^°^' and leaves. Those plants of whose 
greenness withered we make herb tea for 
the sick serve but a humble use, and are 
most employed by quacks. I want the 
flower and fruit of a man ; that some fra- 
grance be wafted over from him to me, and 
some ripeness flavor our intercourse. His 
goodness must not be a partial and transi- 
tory act, but a constant superfluity, which 
costs him nothing and of which he is un- 
conscious. This is a charity that hides a 
multitude of sins. walden, p. 83. 

What sad- I believe that what so saddens 

reformer. thc rcformcr is not his sympathy 
with his fellows in distress, but, though he 
be the holiest son of God, is his private 
ail. Let this be righted, let the spring 
come to him, the morning rise over his 
couch, and he will forsake his generous 
companions without apology, walden,?. 84. 



Our own All health and success does me 

sanity most 2:ood, howcvcr far off and with- 

helpfulto ^ . „ ,. 

others. drawu it may appear ; all disease 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 1 3 

and failure helps to make me sad and does 
me evil, however much sympathy it may 
have with me or I with it. If, then, we 
would restore mankind by truly Indian, 
botanic, magnetic, or natural means, let us 
be as simple and well as Nature ourselves, 
dispel the clouds which hang over our own 
brows, and take up a little life into our 
pores. Do not stay to be an overseer of 
the poor, but endeavor to become one of 
the worthies of the world. walden, p. 85. 



The true ^ vci2Si is rich in proportion to 

wealth. ^j^g number of things which he 
can afford to let alone. walden, p. 89. 



The best With respect to landscapes, — 

aTarm ^^ " ^ ^"^ monarch of all I survey^ 
affords. My right there is none to dispute.'* 

I have frequently seen a poet withdraw, 
having enjoyed the most valuable part of a 
farm, while the crusty farmer supposed that 
he had got a few wild apples only. Why, 
the owner does not know it for many years 
when a poet has put his farm in rhyme, the 
most admirable kind of invisible fence, — 
has fairly impounded it, milked it, skimmed 
it, and got all the cream, and left the farmer 
only the skimmed milk. walden, p. 90. 



14 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Slavery ^^ ^^^S ^^ possiblc, Hve frec 

to affairs. ^^^ j uncommitted. It makes but 

little difference whether you are committed 
to a farm or the county jail. walden.p.qi. 



Make the ^ ^^ ^^t propose to wntc an 

Tgoodin^^' ode to dejection, but to brag as 
^^^^' lustily as chanticleer in the morn- 

ing standing on his roost, if only to wake 
my neighbors up. walden, p. 92. 



The creation The winds which passed over 

a poem to i n • i 

open ears, my dweJlmg wcrc such as sweep 
over the ridges of mountains, bearing the 
broken strains, or celestial parts only, of 
terrestrial music. The morning wind for- 
ever blows, the poem of creation is unin- 
terrupted ; but few are the ears that hear 
it. Olympus is but the outside of the 
earth everywhere. walden, p. 92. 



The invita- Evcry moming was a cheerful 

tion of morn- ... , i • r r 

ing. invitation to make my life of 

equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, 
with Nature herself. walden, p. 96. 



A new life They Say that characters were 
each day. engravcn on the bathing tub of 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 1 5 \ 

king Tching-Thang to this effect : *' Re- 
new thyself completely each day ; do it 
again, and again, and forever again." 

Walden, p. 96. 



We should Little is to be expected of that 
each morn- day, if it Can be called a day, to 

mgbynew i i i 

inward life, which wc arc not awakened by 
our Genius, but by the mechanical nudg- 
ings of some servitor, are not awakened 
by our own newly acquired force and as- 
pirations from within to a higher life than 
we fell asleep from. walden, p. 96. 

T,, After a partial cessation of his 

The organs ^ 

^l^/ntL sensuous life, the soul of man, or 

genius re- ' ' 

bTifeaUhfui its organs rather, are reinvigo- 
sieep. rated each day, and his Genius 

tries again what noble life it can make. 

Walden, pc 97. 



Morning is To him whosc clastic and vig- 
Tre^t^uir"^^ orous thought keeps pace with 

awake. ^]^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^y j^ ^ pCrpCtual 

morning. It matters not what the clocks 
say, or the attitudes and labors of men. 
Morning is when I am awake and there is 
a dawn in me. walden, p. 97. 



1 6 SELECTIONS FROM THOJREAU. 

No one To bc awake is to be alive. I 

thoroughly , 

awake. havc nevcr yet met a man who 

was quite awake. How could I have 
looked him in the face .? walden, p. 98. 



Expectation ^^ must Icam to rcawakcn and 
of the dawn, j^^^p Qursclves awakc, not by 

mechanical aids, but by an infinite expec- 
tation of the dawn, which does not forsake 
us in our soundest sleep. walden, p. 98. 

Give beauty It is Something to be able to 

to the day . . , . 

from the pamt a particular picture, or to 

beauty , 

within. carve a statue, and so to make a 

few objects beautiful ; but it is far more 
glorious to carve and paint the very atmos- 
phere and medium through which we look, 
which morally we can do. To affect the 
quality of the day, — that is the highest 

of arts. Walden, p. 98. 

Real life. I did not wish to live what was 

not life, living is so dear ; nor did I wish 
to practice resignation, unless it was quite 
necessary. walden, p. 98. 



x^xrenoxro Our llfc is frlttcrcd away by 

be lost in the detail. Simplicity, simplicity, 

simplicity ! Let your affairs be 



Life not to 
be lost in tl 
complexity 
of affairs. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 1/ 

as two or three, and not a hundred or a 
thousand ; instead of a million count half 
a dozen, and keep your accounts on your 
thumb nail. walden, p. 99. 

**piain living Thc uatiou itself is just such an 
thinking.'^ unwieldy and overgrown establish- 
ment, cluttered with furniture and tripped 
up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and 
heedless expense, by want of calculation 
and a worthy aim, as the million house- 
holds in the land ; and the only cure for it 
as for them is in a rigid economy, a stern 
and more than Spartan simplicity of life 
and elevation of purpose. walden, p. 99- 

Life wasted Why should wc livc with such 

in afEairs.. j^^^.^.^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^£ jjf ^ p ^^ ^^^ 

determined to be starved before we are 
hungry. Men say that a stitch in time 
saves nine, and so they take a thousand 
stitches to-day to save nine to-morrow. 

Walden, p. 100. 

The news as What ucws ! how much more 
wITh'eSrliai important to know what that is 
^^"^^* which was never old ! ** Kieou-he- 

yu (great dignitary of the state of Wei) 



1 8 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

sent a man to Khoung-tseu to know his 
news. Khoung-Tseu caused the messenger 
to be seated near him, and questioned him 
in these terms : * What is your master 
doing?' The messenger answered with 
respect, * My master desires to diminish 
the number of his faults, but he cannot 
come to the end of them/ The messenger 
being gone, the philosopher remarked : 
* What a worthy messenger ! What a wor- 
thy messenger ! ' " walden, p. 103. 

What alone ^^ ^c respcctcd ouly what is in- 
has reality, evitablc and has a right to be, 
music and poetry would resound along the 
streets. When we are unhurried and wise, 
we perceive that only great and worthy 
things have any permanent and absolute 
existence, — that petty fears and petty 
pleasures are but the shadow of the reality. 
This is always exhilarating and sublime. 

Walden, p. 103. 

The great God himsclf culmiuatcs in the 

eTer^he'^e prcscnt momcnt, and will never 
^"^""^- be more divine in all the ages. 
And we are enabled to apprehend at all 
what is sublime and noble, only by the 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 1 9 

perpetual instilling and drenching of the 
reality that surrounds us. walden, p. 105. 

Live deiib- Let us speud one day as deliber- 
erateiy. ately as Nature, and not be thrown 
off the track by every nutshell and mos- 
quito's wing that falls on the rails. Let 
us rise early, and fast, or break fast, gently 
and without perturbation ; let company 
come and let company go ; let the bells ring 
and the children cry, — determined to make 
a day of it. walden, p. 105. 

Seek to Let us Settle ourselves, and 

through^ work and wedge our feet down- 
reaiity. Ward through the mud and slush 

of opinion and prejudice and tradition and 
delusion and appearance, that alluvion 
which covers the globe, through Paris and 
London, through New York and Boston 
and Concord, through church and state, 
through poetry and philosophy and reli- 
gion, till we come to a hard bottom and 
rocks in place, which we can call reality. 

Walden, p. 105. 



Use of the The intellect is a cleaver; it 

intellect. disccms and rifts its way into the 



20 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

secret of things. I do not wish to be any 
more busy with my hands than is neces- 
sary. My head is hands and feet. I feel 
all my best faculties concentrated in it. 

Walden, p. io6. 

The shallow Timc is but the stream I go 

stream of /^ i • • t i • i • i 

time. a-nshmg in. I drmk at it ; but 

while I drink, I see the sandy bottom and 
detect how shallow it is. Its thin current 
slides away, but eternity remains. I would 
drink deeper, — fish in the sky, whose bot- 
tom is pebbly with stars. walden, p. io6. 

Mortality In accumulating property for 

and im- 

mortality. oursclvcs or our posterity, m 
founding a family or a state, or acquiring 
fame even, we are mortal ; but in dealing 
with truth we are immortal, and need fear 
no change nor accident. walden, p. los. 

How to read Thc hcroic books, even if 

the heroic • i • i i r 

books. printed in the character oi our 

mother tongue, will always be in a language 
dead to degenerate times ; and we must 
laboriously seek the meaning of each word 
and line, conjecturing a larger sense than 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 21 

common use permits, out of what wisdom 
and valor and generosity we have. 

Waluen, p. 109. 

What are Men sometimcs speak as if the 

sics" ? study of the classics would at 
length make way for more modern and 
practical studies ; but the adventurous stu- 
dent will always study classics, in whatever 
language they may be written, and however 
ancient they may be. For what are the 
classics but the noblest recorded thoughts 
of men ? They are the only oracles which 
are not decayed, and there are such an- 
swers to the most modern inquiry in them 
as Delphi and Dodona never gave. 

Walden, p. no. 



How true To read well, — that is, to read 

should be true books in a true spirit, — is a 
^^^^' noble exercise, and one that will 

task the reader more than any exercise 
which the customs of the day esteem. It 
requires a training such as the athletes 
underwent, the steady intention almost of 
the whole life to this object. Books must 
be read as deliberately and reservedly as 
they were written. walden, p. no. 



22 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Living in We should be blessed if we 

the present, jjyg^j \^ ^q. present always, and 

took advantage of every accident that be- 
fell us, like the grass which confesses the 
influence of the slightest dew that falls on 
it ; and did not spend our time in atoning 
for the neglect of past opportunities, which 
we call doing our duty. We loiter in win- 
ter while it is already spring, walden, p. 336. 

The in- In a pleasant spring morning 

Spring. all men's sins are forgiven. Such 
a day is a truce to vice. While such a sun 
holds out to burn, the vilest sinner may 
return. Through our own recovered inno- 
cence we discern the innocence of our 
neighbors. walden, p. 336. 

wiidness. We need the tonic of wild- 

ness, — to wade sometimes in marshes 
where the bittern and the meadow -hen 
lurk, and hear the booming of the snipe. 
At the same time that we are earnest to 
explore and learn all things, we require 
that all things be mysterious and inexplor- 
able, — that land and sea be infinitely wild. 

Walden, p. 339. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 23 

The glory of Bc a Columbus to whole new 

the realm , _ _ ^ , - . 

within. continents and worlds witnm you, 

opening new channels, not of trade, but of 
thought. Every man is the lord of a 
realm beside which the earthly empire of 
the Czar is but a petty state, a hummock 
left by the ice. walden, p. 343. 

Know If you would learn to speak 

thyself. ^ij |-Qngues and conform to the 
customs of all nations, if you would travel 
farther than all travellers, be naturalized in 
all climes, and cause the Sphinx to dash 
her head against a stone, even obey the 
precept of the old philosopher, and Explore 

th^'-Self. Walden, p. 344- 

Theuniverse I leamcd this, at least, by my 
our hrghest"" experiment : that if one advances 
ideas. confidently in the direction of his 

dreams, and endeavors to live the life 
which he has imagined, he will meet with 
a success unimagined in common hours. 
In proportion as he simplifies his life, the 
laws of the universe will appear less com- 
plex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor 
poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. 

Walden, p. 346. 



24 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Realize ^^ 7^^ ^ave built castles in the 

your dream, ^j^.^ y^^j. ^^^J^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^ j^^^ . 

that is where they should be. Now put 
the foundations under them, walden, p. 346. 

Extrava- I desire to speak somewhere 

expression. wWiout bounds, — like a man in a 
waking moment, to men in waking mo- 
ments ; for I am convinced that I cannot 
exaggerate enough even to lay the founda- 
tion of a true expression. Who that has 
heard a strain of music feared then lest he 
should speak extravagantly any more for- 
ever ? Walden, p. 347. 

, , , . The words which express our 

Indefinite ^ 

words may faith and piety are not definite : 

be most •*• -^ ^ ' 

significant, y^t they arc significant and fra- 
grant, like frankincense, to superior na- 
tures. Walden, p. 347. 

Step to the If a man does not keep pace 

music you . - - . . , 

hear. With his companious, perhaps it 

is because he hears a different drummer. 
Let him step to the music which he hears, 
however measured or far away. It is not 
important that he should mature as soon 
as an apple-tree or an oak. Shall he turn 
his spring into summer ? Walden, p. 348. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 25 

Aim ever at ^^ ^^e conditioti of things which 
the highest. ^^ ^^j.^ made for is not yet, what 

were any reality which we can substitute ? 
We will not be shipwrecked on a vain real- 
ity. Shall we with pains erect a heaven of 
blue glass over ourselves, though when it 
is done we shall be sure to gaze still at the 
true ethereal heaven far above, as if the 
former were not ? walden, p. 349. 

Live for that ^^ ^^ imperfcct work time is 
whkhl°'' an ingredient, but into a perfect 
work time does not enter. 

Walden, p. 349. 



eternal. 



Why we are No f acc which wc cau givc to a 
inTTalsi^ matter will stead us so well at 

position. j^g^ ^g ^j^^ ^^^^j^^ ^j^jg ^j^j^^ 

wears well. For the most part, we are not 
where we are, but in a false position. 
Through an infirmity of our natures, we 
suppose a case, and put ourselves into it, 
and hence are in two cases at the same 
time, and it is doubly difficult to get out. 

Walden, p. 350. 



The Sim- In sane moments we regard 

phcity of 1 1 r 1 1 • 

truth. only the facts, the case that is. 



26 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Say what you have to say, not what you 
ought. Any truth is better than make- 
believe. Walden, p. 3SO. 

Make the Love your life, poor as it is, — 

best of your . , , . . , , 

own life. meet it and live it ; do not shun 
it and call it hard names. It is not so bad 
as you are. It looks poorest when you are 
richest. The fault-finder will find faults 
even in paradise. walden, p. 350. 

Poverty You may perhaps have some 

need not _ i •!!• i • i 

take from us plcasaut, thrillms^, Horious hours, 

the purest ^ . ' t a^U / 

enjoyments, cvcu lu a poor-housc. 1 hc Set- 
ting sun is reflected from the windows of 
the alms-house as brighly as from the rich 
man's abode ; the snow melts before its 
door as early in the spring. walden, p. 350. 

Dishonesty Most think they are above being 

worse than i i i i • 

dependence, supportcd by thc towu ; but it 
oftener happens that they are not above 
supporting themselves by dishonest means, 
which should be more disreputable. 

Walden, p. 351. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 2/ 

Humility Do HOt scck SO anxiously to be 

so"imo're^' devcloped, to subject yourself to 
than culture. ^^^^ influeuces to be played on ; 
it is all dissipation. Humility, like dark- 
ness, reveals the heavenly lights. The 
shadows of poverty and meanness gather 
around us, " and, lo ! creation widens to 
our view/' walden, p. 351. 



Wealth does Wc arc oftcu reminded that, if 

not help in 

our pursuit thcrc wcrc bestowed on us the 

of the 

highest. wealth of Croesus, our aims must 
still be the same, and our means essen- 
tially the same. walden, p. 351. 

Advantage ^^ Y^u are rcstrictcd in your 
of poverty, j-^^ge by povcrty, if you cannot 
buy books and newspapers, for instance, 
you are but confined to the most signifi- 
cant and vital experiences ; you are com- 
pelled to deal with the material which 
yields the most sugar and the most starch. 

Walden, p. 351. 

Money not Supcrfluous wcalth cau buy su- 

necessary ^ . . , 

for the soul, perfluitics ouly. Money is not 
required to buy one necessary of the soul. 

Walden, p. 352. 



28 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 



A person 
irresistible 
on his own 



I love to weigh, to settle, to 
gravitate toward that which most 
P^^^- strongly and rightfully attracts 

me ; — not hang by the beam of the scale 
and try to weigh less, — not suppose a case, 
but take the case that is ; to travel the 
only path I can, and that on which no 
power can resist me. walden, p. 352. 

Fidelity in Drivc a nail home and clinch it 
work. gQ faithfully that you can wake 

up in the night and think of your work 
with satisfaction, — a work at which you 
would not be ashamed to invoke the Muse. 
So will help you God, and so only. Every 
nail driven should be as another rivet in 
the machine of the universe, you carrying 
on the work. walden, p. 353. 



Hospitality I sat at a table where were rich 

in manners, r i i • • i i i 

not in the lood and wmc in abundance, and 

** entertain- . 

ment." I wcnt away hungry from the m- 
hospitable board. The hospitality was as 
cold as the ices. . . . The style, the house 
and grounds and "entertainment,'' pass for 
nothing with me. I called on the king, but 
he made me wait in his hall, and conducted 
like a man incapacitated for hospitality. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 29 

There was a man in my neighborhood who 
lived in a hollow tree. His manners were 
truly regal I should have done better had 
I called on him. walden, p. 353. 

Workessen- How long shall we sit in our 

tial to char- . . . . , 1 , 

acter. porticoes practicmg idle and mus- 

ty virtues, which any work would make im- 
pertinent } As if one were to begin the 
day with long-suffering, and hire a man to 
hoe his potatoes ; and in the afternoon go 
forth to practice Christian meekness and 
charity with goodness aforethought ! 

Walden, p. 354. 

"More day Only that day dawns to which 
to dawn/' ^^ ^j.^ awake. There is more 

day to dawn. The sun is but a morning 

star. Walden, p. 357. 

The vie- Say not that Caesar was victorious, 
character. With toil and strif c who stormed 

the House of Fame ; 
In other sense this youth was glorious. 
Himself a kingdom wheresoever he came. 

Week, p. 276. 

The heart is forever inexperienced. 

Week, p. 278. 



30 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Friendship There is on the earth no insti- 

a thing out- . i • i r • i i • 

side of hu- tution which friendship has es- 

man institu- -, , . , i • . , , 

tions. tabhshed ; it is not taught by any 

rehgion ; no scripture contains its maxims. 

Week, p. 280. 



Friendship No word is oftener on the lips 

the dream r • i 1 • n i • 

of all. of men than ** friendship, and in- 

deed no thought is more familiar to their 
aspirations. All men are dreaming of it, 
and its drama, which is always a tragedy, 
is enacted daily. It is the secret of the uni- 
verse. Week, p. 281. 

The actual ^^ ^^ cqually impossiblc to for- 
sugge^ol! ^ get our friends, and to make 
of the ideal, them auswcr to our ideal. When 
they say farewell, then indeed we begin to 
keep them company. How often we find 
ourselves turning our backs on our actual 
friends, that we may go and meet their 
ideal cousins ! week, p. 281. 

A friend Even the utmost good will and 

nourishes - . - _ . . 

the soul. harmony and practical kindness 
are not sufficient for friendship, for friends 
do not live in harmony, merely, as some 
say, but in melody. We do not wish for 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 3 1 

friends to feed and clothe our bodies, — 
neighbors are kind enough for that, — but 
to do the Hke office to our spirits. For 
this, few are rich enough, however. well 
disposed they may be. week, p. 282. 

A friend, Think of the importance of 

educator. friendship in the education of 
men. It will make a man honest ; it will 
make him a hero ; it will make him a saint. 
It is the state of the just dealing with the 
just, the magnanimous with the magnani- 
mous, the sincere with the sincere, man 
with man. week, p. 283. 

The friend All the abuscs which are the 

the only radi- . .11 1 • 1 

cai reformer, objcct of reform With thc philan- 
thropist, the statesman, and the house- 
keeper, are unconsciously amended in the 
intercourse of friends. week, p. 283. 

It takes two to speak the truth, — one 
to speak, and another to hear, week, p. 283. 

Men ask too I^ ^^^ daily intcrcoursc with 
nobiy'deait^ i^^^, our uoblcr facultics are dor- 
'^'^^* mant and suffered to rust. None 

will pay us the compliment to expect no- 



32 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

bleness from us. We ask our neighbor to 
suffer himself to be dealt with truly, sin- 
cerely, nobly; but he answers no by his 
deafness. He does not even hear this 
prayer. week, p. 284. 

Society con- The State does not demand 
tooVlrrow justice of its members, but thinks 
justice. ^^^ 'I- succeeds very well with 
the least degree of it, hardly more than 
rogues practice ; and so do the family and 
the neighborhood. What is commonly 
called friendship is only a little more honor 
among rogues. week, p. 284. 

Hearty truth Betwccn whom there is hearty 
love" ^ truth there is love ; and in pro- 
portion to our truthfulness and confidence 
in one another, our lives are divine and 
miraculous, and answer to our ideal. 

Week, p. 284. 



The purest 



There are passages of affection 
gh^mpseof 1^^ <^^^ intercourse with mortal 
heaven. x^^xi and womcu, such as no pro- 
phecy had taught us to expect, which trans- 
cend our earthly life and anticipate heaven 

for us. Week, p. 284. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 33 

Estrange- Between two by nature alike 

^^^^' and fitted to sympathize, there is 

no veil, and there can be no obstacle. 
Who are the estranged ? Two friends ex- 
plaining. Winter, p. i. 

Friends are The books for young people 

not selected, g^^ ^ ^^^^^ ^^^j ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^ 

Hon of friends ; it is because they really 
have nothing to say about friends. They 
mean associates and confidants merely. . . . 
Friendship takes place between those who 
have an affinity for one another, and is a 
perfectly natural and inevitable result. No 
professions nor advances will avail. 

Week, p. 285. 

Friends not Impatient and uncertain lovers 
pLlTeach think that they must say or do 
°^^^^* something kind whenever they 

meet ; they must never be cold. But they 
who are friends do not do what they 
think they must, but what they must. Even 
their friendship is, in one sense, a sublime 
phenomenon to them. week,p. 285. 



Friends help The friend asks no return but 

loftst'^'''' that his friend will religiously 

accept and wear and not disgrace 



34 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

his apotheosis of him. They cherish each 
other's hopes. They are kind to each 
other's dreams. week, p. 286. 



Between 



No such affront can be offered 
good'^wiins tc) a friend as a conscious good- 
nofcon!^' will, a fricndlincss which is not a 
scious. necessity of the friend's nature. 

Week, p. 286. 

Friendship is no respecter of sex ; and 
perhaps it is more rare between the sexes 
than between two of the same sex. 

Week, p. 287. 

A hero's love is as delicate as a maiden's. 

Week, p. 287. 

My friend is that one whom I can as- 
sociate with my choicest thought. 

Week, p. 288. 



The toiera- Bcware Icst thy friend learn at 
anobstade^ last to tolcratc one frailty of 
ship. thine, and so an obstacle be raised 

to the progress of thy love. week, p. 288. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 35 

The purest Friendship is never established 
ihemost^un- ^^ an understood relation. Do 
conscious. y^^ demand that I be less your 
friend that you may know it ? Week, p. 288. 

Genuine Wait not till I invite thee, but 

invitation, obscrve that I am glad to see 
thee when thou comest. week, p 289. 

Where my friend lives, there are all 
riches and every attraction, and no slight 
obstacle can keep me from him. Week, p. 289. 

The language of friendship is not words, 
but meanings. It is an intelligence above 
language. Wkek, p. 289. 

Friendship It iS One proof of a man's fit- 

requires ^ r • n 1 • 

wisdom ness for friendship that he is 

as well as ^ - . , . 

tenderness, ablc to do without that which is 
cheap and passionate. A true friendship 
is as wise as it is tender. Week, p. 290. 



Friendship Whcu the fricnd comes out of 
conscious his heathenism and superstition, 
kindliness. ^^^ \,r^'^\^^ his idols, being con- 
verted by the precepts of a newer testa- 



36 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

ment ; when he forgets his mythology, and 
treats his friend like a Christian, or as he 
can afford, — then friendship ceases to be 
friendship, and becomes charity ; that prin- 
ciple which established the almshouse is 
now beginning with its charity at home, 
and establishing an almshouse and pauper 
relations there. week, p. 292. 

Friendship ^ ^^^c friendship is of a nar- 
intTrest^of rowiug and exclusive tendency, 
humanity. ^^^ ^ noblc OHC is not cxclusivc ; 
its very superfluity and dispersed love is 
the humanity which sweetens society, and 
sympathizes with foreign nations ; for, 
though its foundations are private, it is 
in effect a public affair and a public advan- 
tage, and the friend, more than the father 
of a family, deserves well of the state. 

Week, p. 293. 

Are any The ouly danger in friendship 

enough for is that it will end. It is a deli- 

a lasting . _, 

friendship? cate plant, though a native. The 
least unworthiness, even if it be unknown 
to one's self, vitiates it. Let the friend 
know that those faults which he observes 
in his friend his own faults attract. . . . 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 37 

Perhaps there are none charitable, none 
disinterested, none wise, noble, and heroic 
enough, for a true and lasting friendship. 

Week, p. 294. 

Friends do I sometimcs hear my friends 

not ask to be i • /^ i 1 x i 

appreciated, complam iinely that 1 do not ap- 
preciate their fineness. I shall not tell 
them whether I do or not. As if they ex- 
pected a vote of thanks for every fine 
thing which they uttered or did! Who 
knows but it was finely appreciated? It 
may be that your silence was the finer 
thing of the two. week, p. 294, 

Between ^^ humau intcrcoursc the tra- 

iilence^s g^dy bcgins, not when there is 
understood, niisundcrstanding about words, 
but when silence is not understood. Then 
there can never be an explanation. 

Week, p. 294. 
The reserve ^C oftCU forbcar tO COUf CSS OUr 

of affection, fedings, not from pride, but for 
fear that we could not continue to love the 
one who required us to give such proof of 
our affection. week, p. 295. 



38 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

A friend ^^^ ^ companioii, I require one 

one'stighest who wlll make an equal demand 
aspirations. ^^ ^^ ^j^j^ ^^ ^^^ genius. Such 

a one will always be rightly tolerant. It 
is suicide and corrupts good manners to 
welcome any less than this. I value and 
trust those who love and praise my aspira- 
tion rather than my performance. If you 
would not stop to look at me, but look 
whither I am looking and farther, then my 
education could not dispense with your 
company. week, p. 296. 

I cannot leave my sky 

For thy caprice ; 
True love would soar as high 

As heaven is. 

The eagle would not brook 

Her mate thus won, 
Who trained his eye to look 

Beneath the sun. week, p. 297. 

Friendship Confucius Said, '' To contract 
whatl" ties of friendship with any one, 
est in each. -^ ^^ contract friendship with 
his virtue. There ought not to be any 
other motive in friendship." week, p. 298. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 39 

The faults of It is impossiblc to say all that 
must'bTiost w^ think, even to our truest 
in love. friend. We may bid him fare- 
well forever sooner than complain, for our 
complaint is too well grounded to be ut- 
tered. Week, p. 299. 



Friends Thc constitutional differences 

Si"nt^^ which always exist, and are ob- 
sSionS" stacles to a perfect friendship, 
di erences. ^^^ forcvcr a forbiddcn theme to 
the lips of friends. They advise by their 
whole behavior. Nothing can reconcile 
them but love. week, p. 299. 



The necessity itself for explanation, - 
what explanation will atone for that t 

Week, p. 299. 



The real Truc lovc docs not quarrcl for 

differences t -i 1 • i 

between slight rcasons, — such mistakes as 

friends 

cannot be mutual acquaintanccs can explain 

explained * ^ 

away. away ; but, alas, however slight 

the apparent cause, only for adequate and 
fatal and everlasting reasons, which can 
never be set aside. Its quarrel, if there is 
any, is ever recurring, notwithstanding the 
beams of affection which invariably come 
to gild its tears. week, p. 300. 



40 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

We must accept or refuse one another 
as we are. I could tame a hyena more 
easily than my friend. Week, p. 300. 

No real life Ignorance and bungling, with 
without love. 1^^^^ ^j.^ better than wisdom and 

skill without. There may be courtesy, 
there may be even temper and wit and 
talent and sparkling conversation, there 
may be good-will even, and yet the hu- 
manest and divinest faculties pine for ex- 
ercise. Our life without love is like coke 
and ashes. week, p. 300. 

The inward Nature doth have her dawn each 

dawn. ^^y^ 

But mine are far between ; 

Content, I cry, for sooth to say, 

Mine brightest are, I ween. 

For when my sun doth deign to rise. 
Though it be her noontide. 

Her fairest field in shadow lies. 
Nor can my light abide, week, p. 301. 

Friendship As I love naturc, as I love sing- 
oFnat'ure''''^ ing birds, and gleaming stubble, 
harmonize. ^^^ flowiug rfvcrs, and momiug 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 4 1 

and evening, and summer and winter, I love 
thee, my friend. week, p. 302. 



The friend Even the death of friends will 

leaves the . . - , . , . 

sweetest msDire US as much as their lives. 

consolation , 

at his death. They Will Icave consolation to the 
mourners, as the rich leave money to de- 
fray the expenses of their funerals, and 
their memories will be incrusted over with 
sublime and pleasing thoughts, as monu- 
ments of other men are overgrown with 

moss. Week, p. 302. 

Two solitary stars, — 
Unmeasured systems far 
Between us roll, 

But by our conscious light we are 
Determined to one pole. week, p. 304. 



Civility Lying on lower levels is but a 

between • • 1 rr t • 1 • 

friends. trivial ottense compared with ci- 
vility and compliments on the level of 

friendship. Winter, p. 428, 



Exalting We are all ordinarily m a state 

effect of _ , . ^ , . ,.r 

music. 01 desperation. Such is our life, 

it ofttimes drives us to suicide. To how 



42 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

many, perhaps to most, life is barely toler- 
able ; and if it were not for the fear of death 
or of dying, what a multitude would imme- 
diately commit suicide ! But let us hear a 
strain of music, and we are at once adver- 
tised of a life which no man had told us 
of, which no preacher preaches. 

Winter, p. i8r. 

No warder at the gate 
Can let the friendly in, 
But, like the sun, o'er all 
He will the castle win, 
And shine along the wall. 

Week, p. 305. 

Implacable is Love : 
Foes may be bought or teased 
From their hostile intent, 
But he goes unappeased 
Who is on kindness bent. 

Week, p. 305. 

Simplify When the mathematician would 

of life. solve a difficult problem, he first 

frees the equation of all encumbrances, and 
reduces it to its simplest terms. So sim- 
plify the problem of life, distinguish the 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 43 

necessary and the real. Probe the earth 
to see where your main roots run. 

Letters, p. 43. 



Our faintest This, our respcctable daily life, 
ttXS-^ in which the man of common 
est reality. ^^^^^^ ^j^^ Englishman of the 

world, stands so squarely, and on which 
our institutions are founded, is in fact the 
veriest illusion, and will vanish like the 
baseless fabric of a vision ; but that faint 
glimmer of reality which sometimes illu- 
minates the darkness of daylight for all 
men, reveals something more solid and en- 
during than adamant, which is in fact the 
corner-stone of the world. Letters, p. 44. 



The reaiiza- Men canuot couceivc of a state 
dreams. of thlugs SO fair that it cannot 
be realized. letters, p. 44. 



We never have a fantasy so subtile and 
ethereal, but that talent merely y with more 
resolution and faithful persistency, after a 
thousand failures, might fix and engraye it 
in distinct and enduring words, and we 
should see that our dreams are the solidest 
facts that we know. letters, p. 45. 



44 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

What can be expressed in words can be 
expressed in life. letters, p. 45- 



We can Mv actual life IS a fact, in view 

respect our 

aspirations, 01 which 1 have no occasion to 

not our 

actual lives. Congratulate myself ; but for my 
faith and aspiration I have respect. 

Letters, p. 45. 



I love reform better than its modes. 
There is no history of how bad became 
better. letters, p. 45. 

As for positions, combinations, and de- 
tails, — what are they } In clear weather, 
when we look into the heavens, what do 
we see but the sky and the sun } 

Letters, p. 45. 

Individual If you would convincc a man 

sour'ce'or that hc doCS WrOUg, do right. 

reform. g^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ convincc him. 

Men will beheve what they see. Let them 

see. Letters, p. 46. 

''Do what Pursue, keep up with, circle 
youiove.'» j-Qund and round your life, as a 
dog does his master's chaise. Do what you 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 45 

love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, 
bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still. 

Letters, p. 46. 



"If ye be Aim above morality. Be not 

spirit, ye simply good ; be good for some- 
are not un- Aiirii •! ii 

dertheiaw." thing. All fables, mdeed, have 
their morals ; but the innocent enjoy the 

story. Letters, p. 46. 



Direct ap- Let nothing come between you 

peal to the 

highest. and the light. Respect men as 
brothers only. When you travel to the 
Celestial City, carry no letter of introduc- 
tion. When you knock, ask to see God, — 
none of the servants. letters, p. 46. 

In what concerns you much, do not think 
you have companions ; know that you are 

alone in the world. Letters, p. 46. 



The true ^ ^avc tastcd but little bread 

bread. jj^ j^y jj£^ j^. j^^^ bccn mcrc 

grub and provender for the most part. Of 
bread that nourished the brain and the 
heart, scarcely any. There is absolutely 
none, even on the tables of the rich. 

Letters, p. 47. 



46 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

The delight Some men go a-hunting, some 
eirning^a a-fishing, some a-gaming, some 
^''''"^' to war ; but none have so pleas- 

ant a time as they who in earnest seek to 
earn their bread. It is true actually as it 
is true really ; it is true materially as it is 
true spiritually, that they who seek hon- 
estly and sincerely, with all their hearts 
and lives and strength, to earn their bread, 
do earn it, and it is sure to be very sweet 

to them. Letters, p. 48. 

A very little bread, — a very few crumbs 
are enough, if it be of the right quality, for 
it is infinitely nutritious. Let each man, 
then, earn at least a crumb of bread for his 
body before he dies, and know the taste 
of it, — that it is identical with the bread 
of life, and that they both go down at one 

swallow. Letters, p. 48. 

Not only the rainbow and sunset are 
beautiful, but to be fed and clothed, shel- 
tered and warmed aright, are equally beau- 
tiful and inspiring. There is not necessa- 
rily any gross and ugly fact which may not 
be eradicated from the life of man. 

Letters, p. 49. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 47 

The earnest How can anv man be weak who 

man irre- _ , --.__, , 

sistibie. dares to be at all r Even the ten- 
derest plants force their way up through the 
hardest earth, and the crevices of rocks ; 
but a man no material power can resist. 
What a wedge, what a beetle, what a cata- 
pult is an earnest man ! What can resist 

him ? Letters, p. 49. 



That we have but little faith is not sad, 
but that we have but little faithfulness. 
By faithfulness faith is earned. 

Letters, p. 50. 

The misery Whcu oucc wc fall behind our- 
encJ^to^our" sclvcs, there is no accounting for 
genius. ^^ obstacles that rise up in our 
path, and no one is so wise as to advise, 
and no one so powerful as to aid us while 
we abide on that ground. Such are cursed 
with duties, and the neglect of their duties. 
For such the decalogue was made, and 
other far more voluminous and terrible 

codes. Letters, p. 50, 



Cling to Be not anxious to avoid pov- 

the thread _ , . , 1 1 r 

of life. erty. In this way the wealth of 

the universe may be securely invested. 



48 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

What a pity if we do not live this short 
time according to the laws of the long 
time, — the eternal laws ! ... In the 
midst of this labyrinth let us live a thread 

of life. Letters, p. 52. 

The laws of Thc laws of carth are for the 
heaven'har- f^^t, or inferior man ; the laws 
monize. ^£ j^^g^y^^ ^^^ f^j. ^j^^ head, or 

superior man ; the latter are the former 
sublimed and expanded, even as radii 
from the earth's centre go on diverging 

into space. Letters, p. 53. 

Happy the man who observes the heav- 
enly and terrestrial law in just proportion ; 
whose every faculty, from the soles of his 
feet to the crown of his head, obeys the 
law of its level ; who neither stoops nor 
goes on tiptoe, but lives a balanced life, 
acceptable to nature and to God. 

Letters, p. 53. 

Newspapers. If words wcrc invcutcd to con- 
ceal thought, I think that newspapers are a 
great improvement on a bad invention. 
Do not suffer your life to be taken by 
newspapers. letters, p. 56. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 49 

Rest for the When wc are weary with trav- 
^°"^* el, we lay down our load and rest 

by the wayside. So, when we are weary 
with the burden of life, why do we not lay 
down this load of falsehoods which we have 
volunteered to sustain, and be refreshed as 
never mortal was ? Let the beautiful laws 
prevail. Let us not weary ourselves by 
resisting them. letters, p. 57. 

God most It is not when I am. going to 

truly found 1 • 1 1 x 

whennot meet him, but when I am just 

consciously . i i • 1 • 

sought. turnmg away and leavmg him 
alone, that I discover that God is. I say, 
God. I am not sure that that is the name. 

You will know whom I mean. Letters, p. 58. 

Self renun- ^^ ^ ^r a momcut WC make way 
ciation. ^j^j^ Q^j. petty selves, wish no ill 

to anything, apprehend no ill, cease to be 
but as the crystal which reflects a ray, — 
what shall we not reflect ! What a uni- 
verse will appear crystallized and radiant 

around us ! Letters, p. 58. 

The muse The musc should lead like a 

should lead, , . , . - rr -i 

the under- Star which IS very far oii ; but that 

standing "^ 

follow. does not imply that we are to fol- 
low foolishly, falling into sloughs and over 



50 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

precipices, for it is not foolishness, but un- 
derstanding, which is to follow, which the 
muse is appointed to lead, as a fit guide of 
a fit follower. letters, p. 58. 

Too high a Men make a great ado about 
nTbe madT the folly of demanding too much 
upon life. ^f jjf^ ^^^ ^£ eternity?), and of 

endeavoring to live according to that 
demand. It is much ado about nothing. 
No harm ever came from that quarter. 

Letters, p. 59. 

Danger of I am not afraid that I shall ex- 

undervalu- , . . ^ 

ing life. aggerate the value and significance 
of life, but that I shall not be up to the 
occasion which it is. I shall be sorry to 
remember that I was there, but noticed 
nothing remarkable, — not so much as a 
prince in disguise; lived in the golden 
age a hired man ; visited Olympus even, 
but fell asleep after dinner, and did not 
hear the conversation of the gods. 

Letters, p. 59. 



The kind of We, demanding news, and put- 

really want, tiug Up with Stick UCWS ! Is it a 

new convenience, or a new accident, or. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 51 

rather, a new perception of the truth that 
we want ? letters, p. 60. 

Divine ex- ^^ ^^^ ^^^ attitude of expecta- 
pectations. ^^^^ somewhat divine ? — a sort 
of home-made divineness ? Does it not 
compel a kind of sphere-music to attend on 
it ? and do not its satisfactions merge at 
length, by insensible degrees, in the enjoy- 
ment of the thing expected ? letters, p. 61. 

Exalted em- Somc absorbiug employment on 
pioyment. your higher ground, — your up- 
land farm, — whither no cart-path leads, 
but where you mount alone with your hoe, 
— where the life everlasting grows ; there 
you raise a crop which needs not to be 
brought down into the valley to a market ; 
which you barter for heavenly products. 

Letters, p. 61. 

Yield not to Be not deterred by melancholy 
T^^^^lfy on the path which leads to im- 
wardpath. ^^^^^^ \^^'A\h and joy. When 
they tasted of the water of the river over 
which they were to go, they thought it tasted 
a little bitterish to the palate, but it proved 
sweeter when it was down. letters, p. 62. 



52 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

As a man Ouf thoughts arc the epochs in 

thinketh, so . . ti i • i j_ 

is he. our hves ; all else is but as a 

journal of the winds that blew while we 
were here. letters, p. 63. 

Our ideal It is not easy to make our lives 

shames our 111 r 

best efforts, respectable by any course oi ac- 
tivity. We must repeatedly withdraw into 
our shells of thought, like the tortoise, 
somewhat helplessly ; yet there is more 
.than philosophy in that. letters, p. 64. 

Inward ^^ ^ should tum mysclf inside 

poverty. ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ mcanncss would 

indeed appear. I am something to him 
that made me, undoubtedly, but not much 
to any other that he has made. 

Letters, p. 64. 



He who As for missing friends, — what 

obeys his , - , 

genius can- it wc do miss ouc anothcr .'' 

not lose his 

friends. Havc wc not agrccd on a rendez- 
vous } While each wanders his own way 
through the wood, without anxiety, ay, with 
serene joy, though it be on his hands and 
knees, over rocks and fallen trees, he can- 
not but be in the right way. There is no 

wrong way to him. Letters, p. 65. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 53 

Friendship ^ ^^^ ^^^ misscd his friend 
in nature. ^^ ^ tum, wciit OH buoyantly, di- 
viding the friendly air, and humming a tune 
to himself, ever and anon kneeling with 
delight to study each lichen in his path, and 
scarcely made three miles a day for friend- 
ship. Letters, p. 65. 

Unconscious I ^m glad to kuow that I am as 
influence. niuch to any mortal as a persis- 
tent and consistent scarecrow is to a far- 
mer, — such a bundle of straw in a man's 
clothing as I am, with a few bits of tin to 
sparkle in the sun dangling about me, as if 
I were hard at work there in the field. 
However, if this kind of life saves any 
man's corn, — why, he is the gainer. 

Letters, p. 68. 



The best I ^^ ^ot afraid you will flatter 

fsXc^'rhn^" ine as long as you know what I 
"^^'"^* am, as well as what I think or aim 
to be, and distinguish between these two ; 
for then it will commonly happen that if 
you praise the last, you will condemn the 

first. Letters, p. 69. 



54 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

The earnest All thc world complaiii tiow-a- 

not hindered - - r • • i i • 

by trifles. days of a press of trivial duties 
and engagements, which prevents their 
employing themselves on some higher 
ground they know of ; but undoubtedly, if 
they were made of the right stuff to work 
on that higher ground, provided they were 
released from all those engagements, they 
would now at once fulfill the superior en- 
gagement, and neglect all the rest, as nar- 
urally as they breathe. Letters, p. 70. 



A glorious As for passing through any 
cannoTbf grcat aud glorious experience, 
left behind. ^^^ rlsiug above it, as an eagle 
might fly athwart the evening sky to rise 
into still brighter and fairer, regions of the 
heavens, I cannot say that I ever sailed 
so creditably, but my bark ever seemed 
thwarted by some side wdnd, and went off 
over the edge, and now only occasionally 
tacks back toward the centre of that sea 
again. letters, p. 70. 

Hope for I havc outgrowu nothing good, 

ourselves. ^^^^ j j^ ^^^ f^^^ ^^ ^^^^ f^jj^^ 

behind by whole continents of virtue, which 
should have been passed as islands in my 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 55 

course ; but I trust — what else can I trust ? 
— that with a stiff wind, some Friday, when 
I have thrown some of my cargo over- 
board, I may make up for all that distance 

lost. Letters, p. 71. 

Wisdom and Man is continually saying to 
Ifaureach woman, Why will you not be 
°^^^^''* more wise ? Woman is contin- 

ually saying to man, Why will you not be 
more loving ? It is not in their wills to be 
wise or to be loving ; but, unless each is 
both wise and loving, there can be neither 

wisdom nor love. Letters, p. 72. 

Sky-lights. I am not satisfied with ordinary 
windows. I must have a true sky-light, 
and that is outside the village. . . . The 
man I meet with is not often so instructive 
as the silence he breaks. This stillness, 
solitude, wildness of nature is a kind of 
thoroughwort or boneset to my intellect. 
This is what I go out to seek. It is as if 
I always met in those places some grand, 
serene, immortal, infinitely encouraging, 
though invisible, companion, and walked 
with him. There at last my nerves are 
steadied, my senses and my mind do their 

office. Winter, p. 135. 



56 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

The human Thc lovcr sccs in thc glance of 
^^^' his beloved the same beauty that 

in the sunset paints the western skies. It 
is the same daimofi here lurking under a 
human eyelid and there under the closing 
eyelids of the day. Here, in small com- 
pass, is the ancient and natural beauty of 
evening and morning. What loving astron- 
omer has ever fathomed the ethereal depths 
of the eye } letters, p. n- 

The lover's Pcrhaps an instinct survives 
reserve. through thc iutcnscst actual love, 
which prevents entire abandonment of de- 
votion, and makes the most ardent lover a 
little reserved. It is the anticipation of 
change. For the most ardent lover is not 
the less practically wise, and seeks a love 
which will last forever. letters, p. ^^, 

The rarity Considering how few poetical 

marriages, friendships thcrc are, it is remark- 
able that so many are married. It would 
seem as if men yielded too easy an obedi- 
ence to nature without consulting their 
genius. One may be drunk with love 
without being any nearer to finding his 
mate. letters, p. 74. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 57 

^ , If common sense had been con- 

Botn com- 

divhirstnse suited, how many marriages would 
consulted in never have taken place ; if uncom- 

marriage. ^^^ ^^ divinC SCnSC, hoW fcW 

marriages, such as we witness, would ever 
have taken place ! letters, p. 74. 



Love should Our love may be ascending or 
^^e^ascen dcsccnding. What is its charac- 
ter, if it may be said of it, — 

" We must respect the souls above, 
But only those below we laue.^'^ 

Letters, p. 74. 

Shun a ^ Is your friend such a one that 

descending . - 

love. an mcrease of worth on your part 

will rarely make her more your friend ? Is 
she retained, — is she attracted, — by more 
nobleness in you, — by more of that virtue 
which is peculiarly yours ; or is she indif- 
ferent and blind to that ? Is she to be 
flattered and won by your meeting her on 
any other than the ascending path ? Then 
duty requires that you separate from her. 

Letters, p. 74. 



True love A man of fine perceptions is 

most clear- , ^ , , - , 

sighted. more truly femmme than a merely 



58 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

sentimental woman. The heart is blind ; 
but love is not blind. None of the gods is 
so discriminating. letters, p. 75- 

In love, the ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ friendship the imag- 
mifsTnot'be ination is as much exercised as 

offended. ^^^ ^^^^^ . ^^j •£ ^j^j^^^ j^ ^^^_ 

raged, the other will be estranged. It 
is commonly the imagination which is 
wounded first, rather than the heart, — it 
is so much the more sensitive. 

Letters, p. 75. 

Lovers must I Tcquirc that thou knowest 

understand , . , . . . 

each another evervthms: without bemg told 

without , . T 1 r 1 

words. anything. I parted irom my be- 

loved because there was one thing which I 
had to tell her. She questioned me. She 
should have known all by sympathy. That 
I had to tell it her was the difference be- 
tween us, — the misunderstanding. 

Letters, p. 76. 

The lover A lovcr nevcr hears anything 

hears things, , . , , r t • i 

not words, that IS told^ for that is commonly 
either false or stale ; but he hears things 
taking place, as the sentinels heard Trenck 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 59 

mining in the ground, and thought it was 

moles. Letters, p. 76. 



Lovede- ^^ to chaffer and higgle are 

SmosVdi- bad in trade, they are much worse 
rectness. j^ j^^^^ j^ demands directness 

as of an arrow. letters, p. 77- 

The true The lovcr wants no partiality. 

noThirhb He says, Be so kind as to be just. 
^^''^^'' ... I need thy hate as much as 

thy love. Thou wilt not repel me entirely 
when thou repellest what is evil in me. 

Letters, p. 77. 

Truthfulness. It is not cnough that we are 
truthful ; we must cherish and carry out 
high purposes to be truthful about. 

Letters, p. 78. 

No lower en- Commottly, mcn are as much 
STthr afraid of love as of hate. They 
way of love, ^i^^^ lowcr engagements. They 
have near ends to serve. They have not 
imagination enough to be thus employed 
about a human being, but must be cooper- 
ing a barrel, forsooth. letters, p. 78. 



60 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

No treasure What a difference whether, in 
p°ar^ed with '^ Y^ur walks, you meet only 
^°''^* strangers, or in one house is one 

who knows you, and whom you know. To 
have a brother or a sister ! To have a gold 
mine on your farm ! To find diamonds in 
the gravel heaps before your door ! How 
rare these things are ! letters, p. 78. 



"Through Would not a friend enhance the 

thee alone r i i i i 

the sky is beauty of the landscape as much 

arched. "^ i •» -r^ 

Through as a deer or a hare ? Everythmer 

thee the rose '' ^ 

is red." would acknowledge and serve 
such a relation ; the corn in the field, and 
the cranberries in the meadow. The flow- 
ers would bloom and the birds sing with a 
new impulse. There would be more fair 
days in the year. letters, p. 78. 

*'Onthe The object of love expands 

broken arcs, and grows bcforc us to eternity, 
hlavln a until it iucludcs all that is lovely, 

perfect 

sound." and we become all that can love. 

Letters, p. 79. 



Meet others If you scek thc Warmth even 

on the high- r rr ^* r • •! 

est plane of aftcction from a similar mo- 
command, tive to that from which cats and 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 6 1 

dogs and slothful persons hug the fire, be- 
cause your temperature is low through 
sloth, you are on the downward road, and 
it is but to plunge yet deeper into sloth. 

Letters, p. 8i. 

Genuine T\l^ Warmth of celestial love 

in^d ^^^^^'^^^ does not relax, but nerves and 
strengthens. ]3j.^Qgs j^s eujoyer. Warm your 
body by healthful exercise, not by cower- 
ing over a stove. Warm your spirit by 
performing independently noble deeds, not 
by ignobly seeking the sympathy of your 
fellows who are no better than yourself. 

Letters, p. 8i. 

Friends deal ^ mau's social and spiritual 
t?uth with discipline must answer to his cor- 
each other. ^^^^^\^ Hc must lean on a friend 
who has a hard breast, as he would lie on 
a hard bed. He must drink cold water for 
his only beverage. So he must not hear 
sweetened and colored words, but pure and 
refreshing truths. He must daily bathe in 
truth cold as spring water, not warmed by 
the sympathy of friends. letters, p. si. 

We must love our friend so much that 



62 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

she shall be associated with our purest and 
holiest thoughts alone. When there is 
impurity, we have *' descended to meet/' 
though we knew it not. letters, p. 82. 

Love must Wc may love and not elevate 
I'o^retlinks ^ne auothcr. The love that takes 
^''"^^' us as it finds us degrades us. 

What watch we must keep over the fairest 
and purest of our affections, lest there be 
some taint about them. May we so love 
as never to have occasion to repent our 

love. Letters, p. 82. 

A flower the Flowcrs, which, by their infinite 
pure love. hucs and fragrance, celebrate the 
marriage of the plants, are intended for a 
symbol of the open and unsuspected beauty 
of all true marriage, when man's flower- 
ing season arrives. letters, p. 82. 

The joy of ^ ^^^^ marriage will differ in 

inteliectliai "^^ wisc from illuminatiou. In all 
perception, perception of the truth there is a 
divine ecstasy, an inexpressible delirium 
of joy, as when a youth embraces his be- 
trothed virgin. The ultimate delights of 
a true marriage are one with this. 

Letters, p. 84. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 63 
Pure love Somc have asked if the stock of 

the radical , , ^ , . , . j. 

reformer. mcn could HOt be improvcd, — if 
they could not be bred as cattle. Let love 
be purified, and all the rest will follow. A 
pure love is thus, indeed, the panacea for 
all the ills of the world. letters, p. 84. 

The off- The only excuse for reproduc- 

spring of the ... , -r , 

noble tend tion IS improvemcnt. Nature ab- 

to a higher .•-!-» i 

nobility. hors repetition. Beasts merely 
propagate their kind ; but the offspring of 
noble men and women will be superior to 
themselves, as their aspirations are. By 
their fruits ye shall know them. 

Letters, p. 84. 



Faithfulness As to how to prcscrvc potatocs 

rather than . . . 

knowledge trom rottiug my opinion may 

saves the ^ r ^ 

soul. change trom year to year ; but as 

to how to preserve my soul from rotting, 
I have nothing to learn, but something to 
practice. letters, p. 87. 

Wealth com- Thc problcm of life becomes, 
piobiem^of^ one cannot say by how many de- 
hfe. grees, more complicated as our 

material wealth is increased, whether that 
needle they tell of was a gateway or not, 



64 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

since the problem is not merely nor mainly 
to get life for our bodies, but by this or a 
similar discipline to get life for our souls ; 
by cultivating the lowland farm on right 
principles, that is, with this view, to turn 
it into an upland farm. Letters, p. 88. 

To truly Though wc arc desirous to earn 



earn our 



bread, we our bread, we need not be anxious 

must satisfy . r • i i 

God for it. to satisfy men for it, — though we 
shall take care to pay them, — but God, 
who alone gave it to us. letters, p. 89. 

Men may ^^^ ^^7 ^^ eff CCt pUt US iu the 

Fo^ialisfying dcbtors' jail for that matter, sim- 
^°^' ply for paying our whole debt to 

God, which includes our debt to them, and 
though we have his receipt for it, for his 
paper is dishonored. letters, p. 90. 

How prompt we are to satisfy the hun- 
ger and thirst of our bodies ; how slow to 
satisfy the hunger and thirst of our souls. 

Letters, p. 90. 



Care for the An Ordinary man will work 

pared with cvcry day for a year at shovelline: 

care for the .. ^ , . , , r 

soul. dirt to support his body, or a fam- 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 6$ 

ily of bodies ; but he is an extraordinary 
man who will work a whole day in a year 

for the support of his soul. Letters, p. 90. 

Real success. He alono is the truly enterpris- 
ing and practical man who succeeds in 
maintainhig his soul here. Have we not 
our everlasting life to get t and is not that 
the only excuse for eating, drinking, sleep- 
ing, or even carrying an umbrella when it 
rains ? letters, p. 90. 

The helpful I ^^ much indebted to you be- 
couragesour causc you look SO Steadily at the 
aspirations. |3^|-|.^j. g^^g^ qj. j-ather the true cen- 

tre of me (for our true centre may, and 
perhaps oftenest does, lie entirely aside 
from us, and we are in fact eccentric), and, 
as I have elsewhere said, " give me an op- 
portunity to live/* Letters, p. 91. 

The ideal What a little shelf is required, 

needs but 11.1 . • 

slight sup- by which we may mipms^e upon 

port in the ^ ^ , , ./. i . 

actual. another, and build there our eyrie 

in the clouds, and all the heavens we 
see above us we refer to the crags around 
and beneath us. Some piece of mica, as 
it were, in the face or eyes of one, as on 



66 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

the delectable mountains, slanted at the 
right angle, reflects the heavens to us. 

Letters, p. gx. 

How the It was not the hero I admired, 

ffgurVsT^' but the reflection from his epau- 
P^''°"- let or helmet. It is nothing (for 
us) permanently inherent in another, but 
his attitude or relation to what we prize, 
that we admire. The meanest man may 
glitter with micaceous particles to his fel- 
low's eye. These are the spangles that 
adorn a man. letters, p. 91. 

Ideal union. The highcst uuion, ... or central 
oneness, is the coincidence of visual rays. 
Our club-room was an apartment in a con- 
stellation where our visual rays met (and 
there was no debate about the restaurant). 
The way between us is over the mount. 

Letters, p 92, 

Yourself and Your words make me think of 
Ke^Mgh- a man of my acquaintance whom 
est union. j Qccasioually meet, whom you, 
too, appear to have met, one Myself, as. 
he is called. Yet, why not call him Your- 
self } If you have met with him and 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 6/ 

know him, it is all I have done ; and surely 
where there is mutual acquaintance, the 
my and thy make a distinction without a 
difference. letters, p. 92, 

The most Hold fast to your most indefi- 

thou|ht'!ig- nite, waking dream. The very 
nificant. green dust on the walls is an or- 
ganized vegetable ; the atmosphere has its 
fauna and flora floating in it ; and shall we 
think that dreams are but dust and ashes, 
are always disintegrated and crumbling 
thoughts, and not dust-Hke thoughts troop- 
ing to their standard with music, systems 
beginning to be organized ? letters, p. 92. 

Value of a Supposc a man were to sell the 

clear soul 1 i 1 r 1 • 

compared huc, thc Icast amouut of colormg 

with mate- , . - 

rial gains. matter m the superficies of his 
thought, for a farm, — were to exchange an 
absolute and infinite value for a relative 
and finite one, to gain the whole world and 
lose his own soul ! letters, p. 93. 

Self-respect. It is worth whilc to Hve respect- 
ably unto ourselves. We can possibly get 
along with a neighbor, even with a bedfel- 
low, whom we respect but very little ; but 



68 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

as soon as it comes to that, that we do not 
respect ourselves, then we do not get along 
at all, no matter how much money we are 
paid for halting. letters, p. 95. 

Better ob- It is better to have your head 

above than in thc clouds, and know where 

false clear- . - , 

ness below, you arc, II mdccd you cannot 
get it above them, than to breathe the 
clearer atmosphere below them, and think 
that you are in paradise. letters, p. 96. 

Appeal to All that men have said or are 

the highest , i . . 

within you. IS a vcry I amt rumor, and it is not 
worth while to remember or refer to that. 
If you are to meet God, will you refer to 
anybody out of that court ? How shall men 
know how I succeed, unless they are in at 
the life ? I did not see the " Times " re- 
porter there. letters, p. 96. 

Friends We will Stand on solid founda- 

must meet . i t i 

erectly. tions to ouc auothcr, — la col- 
umn planted on this shore,,you on that. . . . 
We will not mutually fall over that we may 
meet, but will grandly and eternally guard 
the straits. letters, p. 119. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 69 

The comfort Talk of buming your smoke 

of industry. ^£^^j. ^J^^ ^^^^ J^^g j^^^j^ ^^^^ 

sumed ! There is a far more important 
and warming heat, commonly lost, which 
precedes the burning of the wood. It is 
the smoke of industry, which is incense. I 
had been so thoroughly warmed in body 
and spirit, that when at length my fuel was 
housed, I came near selling it to the ash- 
man, as if I had extracted all its heat. 

Letters, p. 128. 

Providing Is it not dcHghtful to provide 

not super-' onc's sclf with thc necessaries of 
pleasure. life, — to collcct dry wood for the 
fire when the weather grows cool, or fruits 
when we grow hungry? — not till then. 
And then we have all the time left for 

thought ! Letters, p. 96. 

A warm Of what usc wcrc it, pray, to 

body and a 1 • 1 in 

cold spirit, get a little wood to burn to warm 
your body this cold weather, if there were 
not a divine fire kindled at the same time 
to warm your spirit } letters, p. 97. 



The true Life is SO short that it is not 

dawn. ^jg^ ^^ ^^^ roundabout ways, nor 



70 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

can we spend much time in waiting. Is it 
absolutely necessary, then, that we should 
do as we are doing ? . . . Though it is late 
to leave off this wrong way, it will seem 
early the moment we begin in the right 
way ; instead of mid-afternoon, it will be 
early morning with us. We have not got 
half-way to dawn yet. letters, p. 97. 

Necessity of Wc must heap up a great pile 
work. q£ ^Qjj^g fQj. ^ small diameter of 

being. Is it not imperative on us that we 
do something, if we only work in a tread- 
mill } And, indeed, some sort of revolving 
is necessary to produce a centre and nu- 
cleus of being. What exercise is to the 
body, employment is to the mind and 

morals. Letters, p. 99. 

Uncon- There are so many layers of 

sciousness of 

beauty. mcrc whitc limc m every shell to 
that thin inner one so beautifully tinted. 
Let not the shell-fish think to build his 
house of that alone ; and pray, what are its 
tints to him } Is it not his smooth, close- 
fitting shirt merely, whose tints are not to 
him, being in the dark, but only when he 
is gone or dead, and his shell is heaved up 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 7 1 

to light, a wreck upon the beach, do they 
appear. letters, p. 99. 

High results How admirably the artist is 
of work. made to accomplish his self -cul- 
ture by devotion to his art ! The wood- 
sawyer, through his effort to do his work 
well, becomes not merely a better wood- 
sawyer, but measurably a better man. 

Letters, p. 100. 

No diiettan- ^ou Say that you do not suc- 
teism. c^^^ much. Docs it concern you 

enough that you do not.-^ Do you work 
hard enough at it } Do you get the bene- 
fit of discipline out of it } If so, persevere. 
Is it a more serious thing than to walk a 
thousand miles in a thousand successive 
hours } Do you get any corns by it } Do 
you ever think of hanging yourself on ac- 
count of failure ? letters, p. 100. 

It is the art of mankind to polish the 
world, and every one who works is scrub- 
bing in some part. letters, p. loi. 

The higher If thc work is high and far, you 

the aim, the , • 1 1 

more earnest must not Only aim arigfht, but 

must be the ^ o ' 

work. draw the bow with all your might. 



72 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

You must qualify yourself to use a bow 
which no humbler archer can bend. 

" Work, — work, — work ! " 

Who shall know it for a bow ? It is not 
of yew-tree. It is straighter than a ray of 
light ; flexibility is not known for one of 
its qualities. letters, p. loi. 

Work in Whether a man spends his day 

spite o£ , -111 

moods. m an ecstasy or despondency, he 
must do some work to show for it, even as 
there are flesh and bones to show for him. 
We are superior to the joy we experience. 

Letters, p. 103. 

The loneii- Ah ! what forcigu countries 

ness of false , 

society. there are, greater m extent than 
the United States or Russia, and with 
no more souls to a square mile, stretching 
away on every side from every human 
being, with whom you have no sympathy. 
. . . Rocks, earth, brute beasts, compara- 
tively, are not so strange to me. 

Letters, p. 105. 

When I sit in the parlors and kitchens 
of some with whom my business brings me 
— I was going to say in contact — (busi- 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 73 

ness, like misery, makes strange bedfel- 
lows), 1 feel a sort of awe, and as forlorn as 
if I were cast away on a desolate shore. I 
think of Riley's narrative and his suf- 
ferings. Letters, p. 105. 

How finite You, who soarcd like a merlin 
Tsoi'^tes^^^ with your mate through the realms 
^°"^^* of ether, in the presence of the 

unlike drop at once to earth, a mere amor- 
phous squab, divested of your air-inflated 
pinions. . . . You travel on, however, 
through this dark and desert world ; you 
see in the distance an intelligent and sym- 
pathizing lineament ; stars come forth in 
the dark, and oases appear in the desert. 

Letters, p. 105. 
The friend ^ ^^ g^^^ ^^ \i^2S that I do nOt 

ilmh oSr always limit your vision when you 
vision. \ooY this way ; that you some- 

times see the light through me ; that I am 
here and there windows, and not all dead 
wall. Might not the community sometimes 
petition a man to remove himself as a 
nuisance, a darkener of the day, a too 

large mote ? Letters, p. 107. 



74 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Humanity Thc bcst Hcws you Send me is, 
Nature. Hot that Naturc with you is so 
fair and genial, but that there is one there 
who likes her so well. That proves all that 
was asserted. letters, p. m. 



Things cor- I ^ave not yet learned to live, 
mi^highest that I can see, and I fear that I 
^^^^' shall not very soon. I find, how- 

ever, that in the long run things corre- 
spond to my original idea, — that they cor- 
respond to nothing else so much. 

Letters, p. 113. 

Courage. When an Indian is burned, his 

body may be broiled, it may be no more 
than a beefsteak. What of that } They 
may broil his heart, — but they do not 
therefore broil his coiiragey — his princi- 
ples. Be of good courage ! That is the 

main thing. Letters, p. 113. 

To the cour- ^^ ^ ^^^ wcrc to placc himsclf 
burdens^be- 1^ an attitudc to bear manfully 
come light, the greatest evil that can be in- 
flicted on him, he would find suddenly that 
there was no such evil to bear ; his brave 
back would go a-begging. . . . But as long 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 75 

as he crouches, and skulks, and shirks his 
work, every creature that has weight will 
be treading on his toes, and crushing him ; 
he will himself tread with one foot on the 
other foot. letters, p. 114. 

Thedreadfui The moustcr is never just there 

thing not 

outside of us. where we thmk he is. What is 
truly monstrous is our cowardice and sloth. 

Letters, p. 114. 

I 

The true Why should we ever go abroad, 

adviser. eveu across the way, to ask a 
neighbor's advice ? There is a nearer 
neighbor within us incessantly telling us 
how we should behave. But we wait for 
the neighbor without to tell us of some 
false, easier way. letters, p. 114. 

Fatal post- ^^ evcry one of these houses 
ponement. there is at least one man fighting 
or squabbling a good part of his time with 
a dozen pet demons of his own breeding and 
cherishing, which are relentlessly gnawing 
at his vitals ; and if perchance he resolve 
at length that he will courageously combat 
them, he says, " Ay ! Ay ! I will attend 
to you after dinner," And, when that time 



'jS SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

comes, he concludes that he is good for 
another stage, and reads a column or two 
about the Eastern War ! letters, p. us. 



We must At last onc wIll say, "Let us 

account for _ . . _ 

our lives. SCO, how much wood did you burn, 
sir ? '' and I shall shudder to think that the 
next question will be, '' What did you do 
while you were warm ? '' Do we think the 
ashes will pay for it ? that God is an ash- 
man ? It is a fact that we have got to ren- 
der an account for the deeds done in the 

body. Letters, p. 115. 

Sincerity is a great but rare virtue, and 
we pardon to it much complaining, and the 
betrayal of many weaknesses, letters, p. 117. 

Simplicity To what end do I lead a simple 

an'Kut life at all, pray? That I may 
a means. ^^^^j^ othcrs to simplify their 
lives } — and so all our lives be simplified 
merely, like an algebraic formula ? Or not, 
rather, that I may make use of the ground 
I have cleared, to live more worthily and 
profitably } letters, p. 117. 



I would fain lay the most stress forever 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, J J 

on that which is the most important, — im- 
ports the most to me, — though it were 
only (what it is likely to be) a vibration in 

the air. Letters, p. ii8. 

Themoun- I was glad to hear the other 

tains within . i -r» 

us. day that Higgmson and Brown 

were gone to Ktaadn ; it must be so 
much better to go to than a Woman's 
Rights or Abolition Convention ; better 
still, to the delectable, primitive mounts 
within you, which you have dreamed of 
from your youth up, and seen, perhaps, in 
the horizon, but never climbed. 

Letters, p. ii8. 

Poverty of ^ Walk over the crust to Asny- 
iwnar"^ bumskit, standing there in its 
wealth. inviting simplicity, is tempting to 
think of, — making a fire on the snow un- 
der some rock ! The very poverty of out- 
ward nature implies an inward wealth in the 
walker. What a Golconda is he conversant 
with, thawing his fingers over such a 
blaze ! letters, p. xn» 

Helpful As for the dispute about soli- 

society. ^^^^ ^^^ society, any comparison 



78 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

is impertinent. It is an idling down on the 
plain at the base of a mountain, instead of 
climbing steadily to its top. Of course you 
will be glad of all the society you can get 
to go up with. Will you go to glory with 
me ? is the burden of the song, letters, p. 139. 

It is not that we love to be alone, but 
that we love to soar, and when we do 
soar, the company grows thinner and thin- 
ner till there is none at all. It is either 
the tribune on the plain, a sermon on the 
mount, or a very private ecstasy still higher 
up. We are not the less to aim at the 
summits, though the multitude does not 
ascend them. Use all the society that will 
abet you. letters, p. 139. 

Gratitude I am gratcful for what I am 

for the sense , , . . 

of existence, aud have. My thanksgivmg is 
perpetual. It is surprising how contented 
one can be with nothing definite, — only a 

sense of existence. Letters, p. 145. 

The double. Mcthinks a certain polygamy 

ness of our . , . <• i • . i r , r 

lives. With its troubles is the fate 01 

almost all men. They are married to two 
wives, their genius (a celestial muse), and 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 79 

also to some fair daughter of the earth. 
Unless these two were fast friends before 
marriage, and so are afterward, there will 
be but little peace in the house. 

Letters, p. 154, 

Our deepest ^^ ^^ ^ great Satisfaction to find 
unchange"^ that your oldcst convictions are 
*^^®' permanent. With regard to es- 

sentials I have never had occasion to change 
my mind. . , . The aspect of the world 
varies from year to year, as the landscape 
is differently clothed, but I find that the 
truth is still true, and I never regret any 
emphasis it may have inspired. Ktaadn is 
there still, but much more surely my con- 
viction is there, resting with more than 
mountain breadth and weight on the world, 
the source still of fertilizing streams, and 
affording glorious views from its summit 
if I can get up to it again. letters, p. 157. 

style in ^^ for Style of writing, if one 

writing. j^^g anything to say, it drops from 
him simply and directly, as a stone falls to 
the ground. There are no two ways about 
it, but down it comes, and he may stick in 
the points and stops wherever he can get a 



8o SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

chance. ... To try to polish the stone in 
its descent, to give it a peculiar turn, and 
make it whistle a tune, perchance would be 
of no use, if it were possible, letters, p. 158. 

Appetite for ^^ somc hcads cannot carry 
solitude. tnuch wine, so it would seem that 
I cannot bear so much society as you can. 
I have an immense appetite for solitude, 
like an infant for sleep, and if I don't get 
enough of it this year, I shall cry all the 

next. Letters, p. i6o. 

An adven- If you havc bccn to the top of 

mind rather Mouut WasWugton, let mc ask, 

than in the r-it ^ r^^ 

thing done. What did you find there i That 
is the way they prove witnesses, you know. 
Going up there and being blown on is noth- 
ing. We never do much climbing while we 
are there, but we eat our luncheon, etc., 
very much as at home. It is after we get 
home that we really go over the mountain, 
if ever. What did the mountain say } 
What did the mountain do t letters, p. 165. 



Be warmed Now is the time to become con- 
by activity, ycrsant with your wood-pile (this 
comes under Work for the Month), and be 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 8 1 

sure you put some warmth into it by your 
way of getting it. Do not consent to be 
passively warmed. An intense degree of 
that is the hotness that is threatened. But 
a positive warmth within can withstand the 
fiery furnace, as the vital heat of a living 
man can withstand the heat that cooks 
meat. letters, p. 167. 

Friends I have lately got back to that 

found in _. , nii/-.TT 

solitude. glorious society, called Solitude, 
where we meet our friends continually, and 
can imagine the outside world also to be 
peopled. Yet some of my acquaintances 
would fain hustle me into the almshouse 
for the sake of society^ as if I were pining 
for that diet, when I seem to myself a 
most befriended man, and find constant 
employment. letters, p. 173. 

What a fool he must be who thinks that 
his El Dorado is anywhere but where he 

lives. Letters, p. 177. 



The battle What a battle a man must fight 
sane^think- cverywhcrc to maintain his stand- 
^"^' ing army of thoughts, and march 

with them in orderly array through the 



82 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

always hostile country ! How many ene- 
mies there are to sane thinking. Every 
soldier has succumbed to them before he 
enlists for those other battles. 

Letters, p. 179. 

The cost of ^^ IS ^^sy enough to maintain a 
\TtSh%i family, or a state, but it is bard 
thoughts. ^^ maintain these children of your 
brain (or say, rather, these guests that trust 
to enjoy your hospitality), they make such 
great demands ; and yet, he who does only 
the former, and loses the power to think 
originally, or as only he ever can, fails mis- 
erably. Keep up the fires of thought, and 
all will go well. letters, p. iSo. 

Real success How you can ovcrrun a coun- 
Ts^n our^ try, climb any rampart, and carry 
thoughts. ^^^ fortress, with an army of 
alert thoughts ! — thoughts that send their 
bullets home to heaven's door, — with 
which you can take the whole world, with- 
out paying for it, or robbing anybody. See, 
the conquering hero comes ! You fail in 
your thoughts, or you prevail in your. 
thoughts only. letters, p. iSo. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 83 

Thought a In your mind must be a liquor 

the world, which will dissolve the world 
whenever it is dropt in it. There is no 
universal solvent but this, and all things 
together cannot saturate it. It will hold 
the universe in solution, and yet be as 
translucent as ever. letters, p. iSi. 

Right think- Provided you think well, the 
ibfe! heavens falling, or the earth ga- 

ping, will be music for you to march by. 
No foe can ever see you, or you him ; you 
cannot so much as think of him ; swords 
have no edges, bullets no penetration, for 

such a contest. Letters, p. i8o. 

The beauty Look at mankind. No great 
HfeTin'our''^ diffcrcnce between two, appa- 
thoughts. rently ; perhaps the same height, 
and breadth, and weight ; and yet, to the 
, man who sits most east, this life is a wea- 
riness, routine, dust and ashes, and he 
drowns his imaginary cares (!) (a sort of fric- 
tion among his vital organs) in a bowl. But 
to the man who sits most west, his contempo- 
rary (!), it is a field for all noble endeavors, 
an elysium, the dwelling-place of heroes 
and demigods. The former complains that 



84 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

he has a thousand affairs to attend to ; but 
he does not realize that his affairs (though 
they may be a thousand) and he are one. 

Letters, p. 182. 

Grade the What Is the use of a house if 

befo"e^you jo^ have n't got a tolerable pla- 

^"^^'^* net to put it on ? — if you cannot 

tolerate the planet it is on ? Grade the 

ground first. Letters, p. 183. 

A man's ^^ ^ ^^^ believes and expects 

To^ptrin' great things of himself, it makes 
himself. ^^ ^^jg where you put him, or 

what you show him (of course you cannot 
put him anywhere, nor show him anything), 
he will be surrounded by grandeur. He 
is in the condition of a healthy and hungry 
man, who says to himself. How sweet 
this crust is ! If he despairs of himself, 
then Tophet is his dwelling-place, and he 
is in the condition of a sick man who is 
disgusted with the fruits of finest flavor. 

Letters, p. 183. 

Whether he sleeps or wakes, — whether 
he runs or walks, — whether he uses a 
microscope or a telescope, or his naked 



SELECTIONS FROM THOKEAU, 85 

eye, — a man never discovers anything, 
never overtakes anything, or leaves any- 
thing behind, but himself. Whatever he 
says or does, he merely reports himself. 

Letters, p. 183. 

Courage. Each reaching and aspiration is 
an instinct with which all nature consists 
and cooperates, and therefore it is not in 
vain. But alas ! each relaxation and des- 
peration is an instinct too. To be active, 
well, happy, implies rare courage. 

Letters, p. 184. 

Success The fact is, you have got to take 

devotlort'S the world on your shoulders like 
ideas. Atlas, and put along with it. 

You will do this for an idea's sake, and 
your success will be in proportion to your 
devotion to ideas. It may make your back 
ache occasionally, but you will have the 
satisfaction of hanging it or twirling it to 
suit yourself. Cowards suffer, heroes en- 
joy. After a long day's walk with it, pitch 
it into a hollow place, sit down and eat 
your luncheon. Unexpectedly, by some 
immortal thoughts, you will be compen- 
sated. The bank whereon you sit will be 



86 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

a fragrant and flowery one, and your world 
in the hollow, a sleek and light gazelle. 

Letters, p. 184, 

Explore the What is the use of going right 
htZt^Lg over the old track again ? There 

your ways. j^ ^^ ^^^^^ .^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^j^j^j^ 

your own feet have worn. You must make 
tracks into the Unknown. That is what 
you have your board and clothes for. Why 
do you ever mend your clothes, unless that, 
wearing them, you may mend your ways. 

Letters, p. 185. 

One's I ^^ very busy, after my fash- 

and'dLSpI-' ion, little as there is to show for 
^'°''' it, and feel as if I could not spend 

many days nor dollars in traveling ; for the 
shortest visit must have a fair margin to it, 
and the days thus affect the weeks, you 
know. Nevertheless, we cannot forego 
these luxuries altogether. letters, p. 187. 

The shallow- This Hfc is uot for complaint, 
complaint, but for satisfactiou. . . . Any 
complaint / have to make is too serious to 
be uttered, for the evil cannot be mended. 

Letters, p. 188. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 8/ 

Unconscious How wholesomc winter is, seen 
goodness. £^^ ^^ ^^^^ . j^^^ good, above 

all mere sentimental, warm-blooded, short- 
lived, soft-hearted, moral goodness, com- 
monly so-called. Give me the goodness 
which has forgotten its own deeds, — 
w^hich God has seen to be good, and let 

be. Letters, p. 194- 

What business have you, if you are '' an 
angel of light,*' to be pondering over the 
deeds of darkness, reading the *' New York 
Herald " and the like t letters, p. 195. 

I will not doubt the love untold 

Which not my worth nor want hath bought. 

Which wooed me young, and woos me 

old, 
And to this evening hath me brought. 

Letters, p. 219. 

The ideal of Evcry Walk is a sort of crusade, 
a walk. preached by some Peter the Her- 
mit in us, to go forth and reconquer this 
Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels. 

Excursions, p. 162. 



88 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

A true No Wealth can buy the requi- 

ro^byX^"^^ site leisure, freedom, and inde- 
graceofGod. pgndence, which are the capital 
in this profession. It comes only by the 
grace of God. It requires a direct dispen- 
sation from Heaven to become a walker. 

Excursions, p. 163. 

True walk- The Walking of which I speak 

ing is not for . . . , . , . 

exercise. has nothmg m it akm to takmg 
exercise, as it is called, as the sick take 
medicine at stated hours, — as the swing- 
ing of dumb-bells or chairs ; but is itself 
the enterprise and adventure of the day. 
If you would get exercise, go in search of 
the springs of life. Think of a man's 
swinging dumb-bells for his health, when 
those springs are bubbling up in far-off 
pastures unsought by him. excursions, p. i66. 

Worldly I^ ^y walks I would fain re- 

gottln'ina ^um to my senses. What busi- 

truewalk. ^^^^ j^^^^ j j^ ^j^^ ^Qod.^, if I 

am thinking of something out of the 
woods } I suspect myself, and cannot help 
a shudder, when I find myself so implicated' 
even in what are called good works, — for 
this may sometimes happen. 

Excursions, p. 169. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 89 

The interest An absolutelv ncw prospect is a 

of a new , . 

prospect. great happiness, and I can get 
this any afternoon. ... A single farm- 
house which I had not seen before is 
sometimes as good as the dominions of the 
King of Dahomey. excursions, p. 169. 

Nature pre- From many a hill I can see 
man in a civilization and the abodes of 
scape. man afar. The farmers and their 

works are scarcely more obvious than 
wood-chucks and their burrows. Man and 
his affairs, church and state and school, 
trade and commerce, and manufactures and 
agriculture, even politics, the most alarm- 
ing of them all, — I am pleased to see how 
little space they occupy in the landscape. 

Excursions, p. 170. 

To enjoy a thing exclusively is commonly 
to exclude yourself from the true enjoy- 
ment of it. Excursions, p. 175. 

The charm Thcrc are some intervals which 
ofwiidness. ^^^^^^ ^hc Strain of the wood- 
thrush, to which I would migrate, — wild 
lands where no settler has squatted, to 
to which, methinks, I am already accli- 
mated. Excursions, p. i85. 



go SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

The most Life coRsists with wildness. 

alive, the 

wildest. The most alive is the wildest. 
Not yet subdued to man, its presence re- 
freshes him. One who pressed forward 
incessantly and never rested from his labors, 
who grew fast and made infinite demands 
on life, would always find himself in a new 
country or wilderness, and surrounded by 
the raw material of life. excursions, p. 187. 

Theattrac- I dcrivc morc of my subsis- 

tiveness of - , i • i 

swamps. tence from the swamps which sur- 
round my native town than from the culti- 
vated gardens in the village. There are 
no richer pastures to my eyes than the 
dense beds of dwarf andromeda which 
cover these tender places on the earth's 
surface. excursions, p. 188. 

My spirits infallibly rise in proportion to 
the outward dreariness. Give me the 
ocean, the desert, or the wilderness. 

Excursions, p. 189. 

Wild think- It is the uncivilized, free, and 
us. wild thinking in ** Hamlet " and 

the " Iliad," in all the Scriptures and "My- 
thologies, not learned in the schools, that 

delights us. Excursions, p. 193. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 9 1 

wiidness of A truly good book is something 
bookr^ as natural and as unexpectedly 
and unaccountably fair and perfect as a wild 
flower discovered on the prairies of the West 
or in the jungles of the East, excursions, p. 193- 

No poetry I do not know of any poetry to 

so wild as 1 • 1 i j_ i 

Nature. quotc which adequately expresses 
this yearning for the Wild. Approached 
from this side, the best poetry is tame. I 
do not know where to find in any literature, 
ancient or modern, any account which con- 
tents me of that Nature with which even I 
am acquainted. excursions, p. 195. 

The soul By long years of patient indus- 

science. try and reading of the newspa- 
pers, — for what are the libraries of science 
but files of newspapers .^ -— a man accumu- 
lates a myriad facts, lays them up in his 
memory, and then when in some spring of 
his life he scampers abroad into the Great 
Fields of thought, he, as it were, goes to 
grass like a horse, and leaves all his har- 
ness behind in the stable. excursions, p. 203. 

Knowledge ^ man's ignorancc sometimes 
woTsft'han is Hot Only uscful, but beautiful, 

ignorance. _ ^^Jl^ ^is knOwlcdge, SO Callcd, 



92 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

is oftentimes worse than useless, besides 
being ugly. Which is the best man to 
deal with, — he who knows nothing about 
a subject, and, what is extremely rare, 
knows that he knows nothing, or he who 
really knows something about it, but thinks 
that he knows all ? excursions, p. 204. 

Aim above My dcsirc for knowledge is in- 
knowiedge. termittcut ; but my desire to bathe 
my head in atmospheres unknown to my 
feet is perennial and constant. The high- 
est that we can attain to is not Knowledge, 
but Sympathy with Intelligence. 

Excursions, p. 204. 

Free and "That is activc duty," says 

iTctivny, the the Vishnu Purana, ''which is not 
highest. £^j. ^^j. ]3ondage ; that is know- 
ledge which is for our liberation ; all other 
duty is good only unto weariness ; all other 
knowledge is only the cleverness of an 

artist. Excursions, p. 205. 

A border F^r my part, I feel that with 

Natufe^^^^^^^ regard to Nature I live a sort of 
Society. border life, on the confines oi a 
world into which I make occasional and 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 93 

transient forays only, and my patriotism 
and allegiance to the State into whose 
territories I seem to retreat are those of 
a moss-trooper. excursions, p. 207. 

Vision The walker in the familiar fields 

woHcTof*^^ which stretch around my native 
wHdness^o^f town somctimes finds himself in 
another land than is described in 
their owners' deeds. . . . These farms . . . 
have no chemistry to fix them ; they fade 
from the surface of the glass, and the pic- 
ture which the painter painted stands out 
dimly from beneath. excursions, p. 207. 

The realm We arc accustomcd to say in 

laid waste New England that few and fewer 

by worldly ... ^^ 

living. pigeons visit us every year. Our 

forests furnish no mast for them. So, it 
would seem, few and fewer thoughts visit 
each growing man from year to year, for 
the grove in our minds is laid waste, — 
sold to feed unnecessary fires of ambition, 
or sent to mill, and there is scarcely a twig 
left for them to perch on. excursions, p. 209. 



The great So wc sauutcr toward the Holy 

gi^v^sv^Tue Land, till one day the sun shall 
^° ^'^^" shine more brightly than ever he 



94 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

has done, shall perchance shine into our 
minds and hearts, and light up our whole 
lives with a great awakening light, as warm 
and serene and golden as on a bank-side in 
autumn. excursions, p. 214. 

Thecompii- The grcatcst compliment that 
hll^onf's'^^'^" was ever paid me was when one 
thought. asked me what / thought, and at- 
tended to my answer. I am surprised as 
well as delighted when this happens, it is 
such a rare use he would make of me, as if 
he were acquainted with the tool. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 248. 

The glory of This world is a place of busi- 
leisure. ^^^^^ ^\i2X au infinite bustle! 
I am awaked almost every night by the 
panting of the locomotive. It interrupts 
my dreams. There is no sabbath. It 
would be glorious to see mankind at leisure 

for once. Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 249. 

Out-door ^^ must go out and re-ally our- 

^^^^' selves to Nature every day. We 

must make root, send out some little fibre 
at least, even every winter day. I am sen- 
sible that I am imbibing health when I 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 95 

open my mouth to the wind. Staying in 
the house breeds a sort of insanity always. 
Every house is, in this sense, a sort of hos- 
pital. A night and a forenoon is as much 
confinement to those wards as I can stand. 
I am aware that I recover some sanity 
which I had lost, almost the instant that I 
come abroad. winter, p. 57. 

The evil of To havc douc anything by which 
money^ Y^u carncd money merely is to 
merely. havc becu truly idle or worse. If 
the laborer gets no more than the wages 
which his employer pays him, he is cheated ; 
he cheats himself. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 251. 

"Work for The aim of the laborer should 

work's sake." ^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^ j^Jg Hviug, tO gCt '' a 

good job," but to perform well a certain 
work. . . . Do not hire a man who does 
your work for money, but him who does it 

for love of it. Yankee in Canada, etc, p. 252. 



The truly Thc commuuity has no bribe 

efficient i .n • -cr 

man. that Will tcmpt a Wise man. You 

may raise money enough to tunnel a moun- 
tain, but you cannot raise money enough 



96 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

to hire a man who is minding his own 
business. An efificient and valuable man 
does what he can, whether the community 
pay him for it or not. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 253. 

Artificial Perhaps I am more than usually 

wants en- . - . - >. 

slave us. jcalous With rcspcct to my tree- 
dom. ... If my wants should be much in- 
creased, the labor required to supply them 
would become a drudgery. If I should sell 
both my forenoons and afternoons to so- 
ciety, as most appear to do, I am sure that 
for me there would be nothing left wort?i 
living for. I trust that I shall never thus 
sell my birthright for a mess of pottage. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 253. 

The constant As f or the Comparative demand 

elevation of 1.1 1 ,./... 

our aim. which mcn make on lire, it is an 
important difference between two, that one 
is satisfied with a level success, that his 
marks can all be hit by point-blank shots, 
but the other, however low and unsuccess- 
ful his life may be, constantly elevates his 
aim, though at a very slight angle to the 

horizon. Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 254. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 97 

Living and It is remarkable that there is 
fil^njlhouid little or nothing to be remembered 
beautiful. written on the subject of getting 
a living : how to make getting a living not 
merely honest and honorable, but altogether 
inviting and glorious ; for if getting a living 
is not so, then living is not. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 254. 

Cold and hunger seem more friendly to 
my nature than those methods which men 
have adopted and advise to ward them off. 

Yankee in Canada, etc, p. 255. 

The ordinary Thc ways in which most men 
geuing''^ get their living, that is, live, are 
hosti^^o mere make-shifts, and a shirking 
true life. ^f ^j^^ ^^^1 buslncss of Hfc, chicfly 

because they do not know, but partly be- 
cause they do not mean, any better. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 255. 

A grain of gold will gild a great surface, 
but not so much as a grain of wisdom. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 257. 

Where alone Men rush to California and 

Z\ohl ^°^^ Australia, as if the true gold were 

to be found in that direction ; but 



98 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

that is to go to the very opposite extreme 
to where it lies. ... Is not our native soil 
auriferous } Does not a stream from the 
golden mountains flow through our native 
valley } and has not this for more than 
geologic ages been bringing down the 
shining particles and forming the nuggets 

for us I Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 258. 



What shall it 



A man had better starve at once 
f/he^ha™ than lose his innocence in the 
whole world, proccss of getting his bread. If 
^^^* within the sophisticated man there 

is not an unsophisticated one, then he is 
but one of the Devil's angels. As we grow 
old we live more coarsely, we relax a little 
in our disciplines, and, to some extent, cease 
to obey our finest instincts. But we should 
be fastidious to the extreme of sanity, dis- 
regarding the gibes of those who are more 
unfortunate than ourselves. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 260. 

The limited I hardly know an intellectual 

views of I'll! 

men. man, even, who is so broad and 

truly liberal that you can think aloud in his 
society. Most with whom you endeavor 
to talk soon come to a stand against some 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 99 

institution in which they appear to hold 
stock, — that is, some particular, not uni- 
versal, way of viewing things. They will 
continually thrust their own low roof, with 
its narrow skylight, between you and the 
sky, when it is the unobstructed heavens 
you would view. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 261. 

Religion I^ some lyceums they tell me 

ilnguage^ that they have voted to exclude 
religion. ^^^ subjcct of rcligion. But how 
do I know what their religion is, and when 
I am near to it or far from it ? I have 
walked into such an arena and done my 
best to make a clean breast of what reli- 
gion I have experienced, and the audience 
never suspected what I was about. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 261. 



The low 



I often accuse my finest ac- 
ma^ke^ifpon quaintanccs of an immense fri- 
each other, yolity ; f or, whilc there are man- 
ners and compliments we do not meet, 
we do not teach one another the lessons 
of honesty and sincerity that the brutes 
do, or of steadiness and solidity that the 
rocks do. The fault is commonly mutual, 



100 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

however ; for we do not habitually demand 
any more of each other. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 262. 



Shallow When our life ceases to be in- 

intercourse. ^^j-^j ^iud privatc, couvcrsation 
degenerates into mere gossip. We rarely 
meet a man who can tell us any news 
which he has not read in a newspaper, or 
been told by his neighbor ; and, for the 
most part, the only difference between us 
and our fellow is, that he has seen the 
newspaper, or been out to tea, and we have 

not. Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 263. 

Lifesacri- I do not kuow but it is too 

ficed to the , ., 

newspaper, much to read one newspaper a 
week. I have tried it recently, and for so 
long it seems to me that I have not dwelt 
in my native region. The sun, the clouds, 
the snow, the trees say not so much to me. 
You cannot serve two masters. It requires 
more than a day's devotion to know and to 
possess the wealth of a day. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 263. 



A world If y^^ chance to live and move 

thIt'oFthe a^d have your being in that thin 
newspaper, g^ratum iu which the events that 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. lOI 

make the news transpire, — thinner than 
the paper on which it is printed, — then 
these things will fill the world for you ; but 
if you soar above or dive below that plane, 
you cannot remember nor be reminded of 

them. Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 264. 

The mind I am astouishcd to observe how 

not to be . . 

desecrated willmg mcu arc . . . to permit idle 

by gossip 

and affairs, rumors and incidents of the most 
insignificant kind to intrude on ground 
which should be sacred to thought. Shall 
the mind be a public arena, where the af- 
fairs of the street and the gossip of the 
tea-table chiefly are discussed ? Or shall 
it be a quarter of heaven itself, — an hy- 
paethral temple, consecrated to the service 

of the gods ? Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 265. 

Intellectual It is important to preserve the 

and moral • i > 1 • r^^ • i r t 

suicide. mmd s chastity. . . . f hink ot ad- 
mitting the details of a single case of the 
criminal court into our thoughts, to stalk 
profanely through their very sanctum sanc- 
torum for an hour, ay, for many hours ! 
to make a very bar-room of the mind's in- 
most apartment, as if for so long the very 
dust of the street had occupied us, — the 



I02 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

very street itself, with all its travel, its 
bustle, and filth, had passed through our 
thoughts* shrine ! Would it not be an in- 
tellectual and moral suicide ? 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 265. 

Let your ^^ ^ ^^ ^^ ^c a thoroughfarc, I 

?pent^o^he Prefer that it be of the mountain 
^^^^* brooks, Parnassian streams, and 

not the town sewers. There is inspiration, 
that gossip which comes to the ear of the 
attentive mind from the courts of heaven. 
There is the profane and stale revelation 
of the bar-room and the police court. The 
same ear is fitted to receive both commu- 
nications. Only the character of the hear- 
er determines to which it shall be opened, 
and to which closed. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 266. 

Science Evcn thc facts of science may 

aSoin- dust the mind by their dryness, 
spiration. unlcss they are in a sense effaced 
each morning, or rather rendered fertile by 
the dews of fresh and living truth. Know- 
ledge does not come to us by details, but 
in flashes of light from heaven. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 267. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 103 

Political Do we call this the land of the 

freedom but r •» t t n • i i r 

a means. free ? . . . What IS the value of 
any political freedom but as a means to 
moral freedom ? . . . It is our children's 
children who may perchance be really free. 

Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 268. 

We quarter our gross bodies on our poor 
souls, till the former eat up all the latter's 

substance. Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 268. 

Manners It is thc vicc . . . of mauncrs 

apart from , , • 1 1 i • 

character. that thcy arc contmually being 
deserted by the character ; they are cast- 
off clothes or shells, claiming the respect 
which belonged to the Uving creature. . . . 
The man who thrusts his manners upon 
me does as if he were to insist on intro- 
ducing me to his cabinet of curiosities 
when I wished to see himself. It was not 
in this sense that the poet Decker called 
Christ *' the first true gentleman that ever 

breathed.' Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 269. 

The most Thc chicf waut, in every State 

auctions T" that I have been into, was a high 
^^^^^^' and earnest purpose in its inhabi- 
tants. . . . When we want culture more 



I04 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

than potatoes, and illumination more than 
sugar-plums, then the great resources of a 
world are taxed and drawn out, and the 
result, or staple production, is, not slaves, 
nor operatives, but men, — those rare fruits 
called heroes, saints, poets, philosophers, 

and redeemers. Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 271. 

Truth and -^^ a snow-drif t is formed where 

institutions. ^J^^^.^ Jg ^ J^JJ J^^ ^J^^ ^^Jj^^^ ^^^ ^^^ 

would say, where there is a lull of truth, an 
institution springs up. But the truth blows 
right on over it, nevertheless, and at length 

blows it down. Yankee in Canada, etc., p. 271. 

The author- Poctry is SO uuivcrsally true 
poetry. and independent of experience 
that it does not need any particular biog- 
raphy to illustrate it, but we refer it sooner 
or later to some Orpheus or Linus, and 
after ages to the genius of humanity, and 
the gods themselves. week, p. 102. 

Hours above Wc should be at the helm at 
*'"'^* least once a day. The whole of 

the day should not be daytime ; there 
should be one hour, if not more, when the 
day did not bring forth. week, p. 103. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. IO5 

Read the best books first, or you may 
not have a chance to read them at all. 

Week, p. 103. 

Thehiberna- The poct is hc that hath fat 
poet. enough, like bears and marmots, 

to suck his claws all winter. He hiber- 
nates in this world, and feeds on his own 
marrow, ... is ... a sort of dormouse 
gone into winter quarters of deep and se- 
rene thoughts, insensible to surrounding 
circumstances ; his words are the relation 
of his oldest and finest memory, a wisdom 
drawn from the remotest experience. Other 
men lead a starved existence, meanwhile, 
like hawks that would fain keep on the 
wing and trust to pick up a sparrow now 
and then. week, p. 106. 

The rarity of A pcrfcctly healthy sentence 

perfect ex- . - 

pression. IS . . . cxtrcmcly rare. For the 
most part we miss the hue and fragrance 
of the thought ; as if we could be satisfied 
with the dews of morning or evening with- 
out their colors, or the heavens without 
their azure. week, p. no. 



I06 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Howphys- We are often struck by the 
maVhei'p force and precision of style to 
the writer, ^hich hard-working men, unprac- 
tised in writing, easily attain, when re- 
quired to make the effort ; as if plainness 
and vigor and sincerity, the ornaments of 
style, were better learned on the farm and 
in the workshop than in the schools. 

Week, p. 113. 

Hours of Some hours seem not to be 

resolution. Q^casion for any deed, but for 
resolves to draw breath in. We do not 
directly go about the execution of the pur- 
pose that thrills us, but shut our doors be- 
hind us and ramble with prepared mind, as 
if the half were already done. Our reso- 
lution is taking root or hold . . . then, as 
seeds first send a shoot downward, which 
is fed by their own albumen, ere they send 
one upward to the light. week, p. us. 

Few speak The scholar is not apt to make 
ln"Sugh of his most familiar experience come 
Nature. graccfully to the aid of his ex- 
pression. Very few men can speak of 
Nature, for instance, with any truth. They 
overstep her modesty somehow or other. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 10/ 

and confer no favor. They do not speak 
a good word for her. . . . The surliness 
with which the woodchopper speaks of 
his woods, handling them indifferently as 
his axe, is better than the mealy-mouthed 
enthusiasm of the lover of nature. Better 
that the primrose by the river s brim be a 
yellow primrose and nothing more, than 
that it be something less. week, p. 115. 

Aiwaysroom A good book will ncvcr have 
book. been forestalled, but the topic 

itself will in one sense be new, and its 
author, by consulting with Nature, will con- 
sult not only with those who have gone be- 
fore, but with those who may come after. 
There is always room and occasion enough 
for a true book on any subject, as there is 
room for more light the brightest day, and 
more rays will not interfere with the first. 

Week, p. 116. 

Good and O^^ sailor was visited in his 

bad sleep. ^rcams this night by the Evil 
Destinies, and all those powers that are 
hostile to human life, which constrain and 
oppress the minds of men, and make their 
path seem difficult and narrow, and beset 



I08 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

with dangers. . . . But the other hap- 
pily passed a serene and even ambrosial 
or immortal night, and his sleep was dream- 
less, or only the atmosphere of pleasant 
dreams remained, — a happy, natural sleep 
until the morning, — and his cheerful spirit 
soothed and reassured his brother, for 
whenever they meet, the Good Genius is 
sure to prevail. week, p. 123. 

Thesignifi- When we are in health, all 
music. sounds fife and drum for us ; we 

hear the notes of music in the air, or catch 
its echoes dying away when we awake in 
the dawn. Marching is when the pulse of 
the hero beats in unison with the pulse 
of Nature, and he steps to the measure of 
the universe; then there is true courage 
and invincible strength. week, p. 185. 

Music is the sound of the universal laws 
promulgated. It is the only assured tone. 
There are in it such strains as far surpass 
any man's faith in the loftiness of his des- 
tiny. Week, p. 185. 

History not Wc should rcad history as little 
critically. Critically as we consider the land- 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. lOQ 

scape, and be more interested by the at- 
mospheric tints and various lights and 
shades which the intervening spaces cre- 
ate, than by its groundwork and composi- 
tion. It is the morning now turned even- 
ing and seen in the west, — the same sun, 
but a new light and atmosphere. ... In 
reaUty, history fluctuates as the face of the 
landscape from morning to evening. What 
is of moment is its hue and color . . . ; we 
want not its then, but its now. We do not 
complain that the mountains in the horizon 
are blue and indistinct ; they are the more 
like the heavens. week, p. 164. 

Divine What are threescore years and 

leisure. ^^^^ hurricdly and coarsely lived, 
to moments of divine leisure, in which your 
li^e is coincident with the life of the uni- 
verse } We live too fast and coarsely, just 
as we eat too fast, and do not know the 
true savor of our food. We consult our 
will and our understanding and the expec- 
tation of men, not our genius. I can im- 
pose upon myself tasks which will crush 
me for life and prevent all expansion, and 
this I am but too inclined to do. 

Winter, p. 45, 



no SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

The muse Thc lofticst Strains of the muse 

toopiaintive. ^^^^ f^^ ^j^^ ^^^^ p^j.^.^ subHmely 

plaintive, and not a carol as free as na- 
ture's. The contest which the sun shines 
to celebrate from morning to evening is 
unsung. The muse solaces herself, and is 
not ravished, but consoled. . . . But in 
Homer and Chaucer there is more of the 
serenity and innocence of youth than in 
the more modern and moral poets. 

Week, p. 389. 

A spontane- To thc inuoccut thcrc are nei- 
cencTabove ^hcr chcrubims nor angels. At 
virtue. ^^^^ intervals we rise above the 

necessity of virtue into an unchangeable 
morning light, in which we have only to 
live right on and breathe the ambrosial 

air. Week, p. 390, 

There is no wisdom that can take place 
of humanity. week, p. 391. 

Each deed O^r wholc Hfc is taxcd for the 
by'Srwhoie least thing well done. It is its 
^'^^* net result. How we eat, drink, 

sleep, and use our desultory hours now in 
these indifferent days, with no eye to ob- 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, III 

serve and no occasion to excite us, deter- 
mines our authority and capacity for the 
time to come. early spring, p. 22. 

A friend's ^ f ricud adviscs by his whole 

advice. behavior, and never condescends 

to particulars. Another chides away a 
fault, he loves it away. While he sees the 
other's error, he is silently conscious of it, 
and only the more loves truth itself, and 
assists his friend in loving it, till the fault 
is expelled and gently extinguished. 

Early Spring, p. 28. 

A lesson Simplicity is the law of nature 

flowers. for mcn as well as for flowers. 
When the tapestry (corolla) of the nuptial 
bed (calyx) is excessive, luxuriant, it is un- 
productive. . . . Such a flower has no true 
progeny, and can only be reproduced by 
the humble mode of cuttings from its stem 
or roots. . . . The fertile flowers are single, 
not double. early spring, p. 28. 

The source I havc thoughts, as I walk, on 
above"o^uV. somc subjcct that is running in 
^''^^^^' my head, but all their pertinence 
seems gone before I can get home to set 



112 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

them down. The most valuable thoughts 
which I entertain are anything but what / 
thought. Nature abhors a vacuum, and if 
I can only walk with sufficient carelessness 
I am sure to be filled. early spring, p. 34. 

There must Thcrc can be no good reading 
hea^?ngto uulcss thcrc is good hearing also. 

make a good _ , - - - . 

reader. It takcs two, at Icast, for this 

game, as for love, and they must coope- 
rate. Early Spring, p. 52. 

Anadvan- Thc birds I heard [to-day], 

tage of igno- 1 • 1 r i t i 

ranee. which, lortunatcly, did not come 

within the scope of my science, sang as 
freshly as if it had been the first morning 
of creation, and had for background to their 
song an untrodden wilderness stretching 
through many a Carolina and Mexico of 

the soul. Early Spring, p. 55. 

The Stan- Wc f orgct to stHvc and aspire, 

dard within - . , 

us. to do better even than is expected 

of us. I cannot stay to be congratulated. 
I would leave the world behind me. . . . 
To please our friends and relatives we turn 
out our silver ore in cartloads, while we 
neglect to work our mines of gold known 
only to ourselves, far up in the Sierras, 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, II3 

where we pulled up a bush in our mountain 
walk, and saw the glittering treasure. Let 
us return thither. Let it be the price of 
our freedom to make that known. 

Winter, p. 169. 

Unconscious We reprove each other uncon- 
reproof. sciously by our own behavior. 
Our very carriage and demeanor in the 
streets should be a reprimand that will go 
to the conscience of every beholder. An 
infusion of love from a great soul gives a 
color to our faults which will discover them 
as lunar caustic detects impurities in water. 
The best will not seem to go contrary to 
others ; but as if they could afford to travel 
the same way, they go a parallel but higher 
course. Jonson says, — 

" That to the vulgar canst thyself apply. 
Treading a better path, not contrary." 

Early Spring, p. 56. 

We must How cau our love increase un- 

frknd a^s we l^ss our lovcliness increases also } 
love God. y^^ must sccurcly love each other 
as we love God, with no more danger that 
our love be unrequited or ill bestowed. 
There is that in my friend before which I 
must first decay and prove untrue. 

Early Spring, p. 62. 



114 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

Respectyour Impulsc is, after all, the best 
impulses. linguist ; its logic, if not confor- 
mable to Aristotle, cannot fail to be most 
convincing. The nearer we can approach 
to a complete but simple transcript of our 
thought, the more tolerable will be the 
piece, for we can endure to consider our- 
selves in a state of passivity or in involun- 
tary action, but rarely can we endure to 
consider our efforts, and least of all, our 
rare efforts. early spring, p. ^^, 

Essential Wc must uot cxpcct to probc 

life not to . - _ _ 

be probed. With our fingcrs the sanctuary of 
any life, whether animal or vegetable. If 
we do, we shall discover nothing but sur- 
face still. The ultimate expression or fruit 
of any created thing is a fine effluence, 
which only the most ingenuous worshiper 
perceives at a reverent distance from its 
surface even. . . . Only that intellect 
makes any progress toward conceiving of 
the essence which at the same time per- 
ceives the effluence. early spring, p. 83. 



No ripeness Thcrc is no ripcness which is 

merely the . _ . 

means. uot, SO to spcak. Something ulti- 
mate in itself, and not merely a perfected 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. II5 

means to a higher end. In order to be 
ripe it must serve a transcendent use. The 
ripeness of a leaf, being perfected, leaves 
the tree at that point, and never returns 

to it. Early Spring, p. 84. 

Music has A history of music would be 

no history, jjj^^ ^j^^ history of the future, for 

so little past is it and capable of record 
that it is but the hint of a prophecy. ... It 
has no history more than God. . . . Pro- 
perly speaking, there can be no history but 
natural history, for there is no past in the 
soul, but in nature. ... I might as well 
write the history of my aspirations. 

Early Spring, p. 85. 

The warble The blucbird on the apple-tree, 

of the blue- , -. . -, . 

bird. warbhng so mnocently, to mquire 

if any of its mates are within call, — the 
angel of the spring! Fair and innocent, 
yet the offspring of the earth. The color 
of the sky, above, and of the subsoil, be- 
neath, suggesting what sweet and innocent 
melody, terrestrial melody, may have its 
birthplace between the sky and the ground. 

Early Spring, p. no. 



Il6 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

Content- We caii oiily live healthily the 

the'ufra^ life the gods assign us. I must 
signed us. receive my life as passively as the 
willow leaf that flutters over the brook. I 
must not be for myself, but God's work, 
and that is always good. . . . My fate can- 
not but be grand so. We may live the life 
of a plant or an animal without living an 
animal life. This constant and universal 
content of the animal comes of resting 
quietly in God's palm. early spring, p. m. 

The delight My friend! my friend! ... To 
coirsfwith address thee delights me, there 
a friend. j^ such clcamess in the delivery. 
I am delivered of my tale, which, told to 
strangers, still would linger in my life as if 
untold, or doubtful how it ran. 

Early Spring, p. 112. 

Real wealth. I wish SO to Hvc cvcr as to dcrivc 
my satisfactions and inspirations from the 
commonest events, every-day phenomena, 
so that what my senses hourly perceive in 
my daily walk, the conversations of my 
neighbors, may inspire me, and I may 
dream of no heaven but that which lies 
about me. ... I do not wish my native soil 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, llj 

to become exhausted and run out through 
neglect. Only that traveling is good which 
reveals to me the value of home, and enables 
me to enjoy it better. That man is the 
richest whose pleasures are the cheapest. 

Early Spring, p. 114. 

Solitude and Mrs. A. takcs on dolefully on 
society. account of the solitude in which 
she lives ; but she gets little consolation. 
Mrs. B. says she envies her that retirement. 
Mrs. A. is aware that she does, and says it 
is as if a thirsty man should envy another 
the river in which he is drowning. So goes 
the world. It is either this extreme or 
that. Of solitude, one gets too much ; 
another, not enough. early spring, p. ii6. 

Turn The scholar finds in his experi- 

towards the 

light. ence some studies to be most fer- 

tile and radiant with light, others, dry, 
barren, and dark. If he is wise he will not 
persevere in the last, as a plant in a cel- 
lar will strive towards the light. . . . Dwell 
as near as possible to the channel in which 
your life flows. A man may associate with 
such companions, he may pursue such em- 



Il8 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

ployments, as will darken the day for him. 
Men choose darkness rather than light. 

Early Spring, p. 121. 

The solitude How alonc must our life be 

of a human t i ttt -i 11 

soul. lived. We dwell on the seashore, 

and none between us and the sea. Men 
are my merry companions, my fellow-pil- 
grims, who beguile the way, but leave me 
at the first turn in the road, for none are 
traveling one road so far as myself. . . . 
Parents and relatives but entertain the 
youth. They cannot stand between him 

and his destiny. early Spring, p. 128. 

*' The king- I am startled that God can make 

dom of God . , . - 

Cometh not mc SO Hch, cvcn with my own 

with obser- - _. . 

vation." cheap stores. It needs but a few 
wisps of straw in the sun, some small word 
dropped, or that has long lain silent in some 
book. When heaven begins, and the dead 
arise, no trumpet is blown. Perhaps the 
south wind will blow. early spring, p. 129. 



Let love rest As SOOU aS I SCC pCOple loviug 

on common 

aspirations, what thcy scc merely, and not 
their own high hopes that they form of oth- 
ers, I pity them and do not want their love. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. II9 

Did I ask thee to love me who hate myself ? 
No ! Love that which I love, and I will 

love thee that loves it. Early spring, p. 133. 

The promise Life is graiid, and so are its en- 

in the face of . r t-i i t-^ 

nature. vironments of Fast and Future. 
Would the face of nature be so serene and 
beautiful if man's destiny were not equally 

so ? Early Spring, p. 133. 



Singleness What am I good for now, who 
of purpose. ^^ g^ju searching after high 

things, but to hear and tell the news, to 
bring wood and water, and count how 
many eggs the hens lay } In the mean- 
while I expect my life to begin. I will not 
aspire longer. I will see what it is I would 
be after. I will be unanimous. 

Early Spring, p. 134. 

Water in No sooucr has the iceofWal- 

eariy spring. ^^^ meltcd than thc wind begins 
to play in dark ripples over the face of the 
virgin water. It is affecting to see nature 
so tender, however old, and wearing none 
of the wrinkles of age. Ice dissolved is 
the next moment as perfect water as if it 
had been melted a million years. To see 



I20 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 

that which was lately so hard and immov- 
able now so soft and impressible! What if 
our moods could dissolve thus completely ? 
It is like a flush of life on a cheek that was 
dead. It seems as if it must rejoice in its 
own newly-acquired fluidity, as it affects 
the beholder with joy. early spring, p. 135. 

The privacy O^^ rcligion is as unpublic and 
of religion, incommuuicable as our poetical 
vein, and to be approached with as much 
love and tenderness. early spring, p. 137. 

No book As I am going to the woods, I 

nature. think to take some small book in 
my pocket, whose author has been there 
already, whose pages will be as good as my 
thoughts, and will eke them out, or show 
me human life still gleaming in the horizon 
when the woods have shut out the town. 
But I can find none. None will sail as far 
forward into the bay of nature as my 
thought. They stay at home. I would go 
home. When I get to the wood, their thin 
leaves rustle in my fingers. They are bare 
and obvious, and there is no halo or haze 
about them. Nature lies fair and far be- 
hind them all. early spring, p. 137. 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 121 

The divinity When God made man he re- 

of the human , ^ , . , , 

eye. servcd some parts and some rights 

to himself. The eye has many qualities 
which belong to God more than man. It 
is his lightning which flashes therein. 
When I look into my companion's eye, I 
think it is God's private mine. It is a noble 
feature ; it cannot be degraded. For God 
can look on all things undefiled. 

Early Spring, p. 138. 

No truth The only way to speak the truth 

without love, ig ^Q gp^^]^ lovingly. Only the 

lover s words are heard. The intellect 
should never speak. It does not utter a 
natural sound. early spring, p. 139. 



Disinter- The great and solitary heart 

estediove. ^jjj j^^^ alouc, without the know- 
ledge of its object. It cannot have society 
in its love. ^ It will expend its love as the 
cloud drops rain upon the fields over which 

it lloatS. Early Spring, p. 139. 

Aspirations I P^ay that thc Hf c of this spring 
in the spring. ^^^ summcr may ever he fair in 
my memory. May I dare as I have never 
done. May I persevere as I have never 



122 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 

done. May I purify myself anew as with 
fire and water, soul and body. May my 
melody not be wanting to the season. May 
I gird myself to be a hunter of the beauti- 
ful, that naught escape me. May I attain 
to a youth never attained. 

Early Spring, p. 140. 

Human and Men make an arbitrary code, 
divine law. ^^^^ bccausc it is not right, they 
try to make it prevail by might. The 
moral law does not want any champion. 
Its assertors do not go to war. It was 
never infringed with impunity. It is in- 
consistent to deny war and maintain law, 
for if there were no need of war, there 
would be no need of law. early spring, p. 147. 

The blue- How much morc habitable a few 

aJ'theTndof birds make the fields! At the 
^'''^^'■' end of the winter, when the fields 

are bare, and there is nothing to relieve 
the monotony of withered vegetation, our 
life seems reduced to its lowest terms. But 
let a bluebird come and warble over them, 
and what a change ! The note of the first 
bluebird in the air answers to the purling 
rill of melted snow beneath. It is evi- 



SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 1 23 

dently soft and soothing, and, as surely as 
the thermometer, indicates a higher tem- 
perature. It is the accent of the south 
wind, its vernacular. early spring, p. 168. 

Nature on Each ncw year is a surprise to 

l\Vus\lt us. We find that we had virtu- 
'''"^' ally forgotten the note of each 

bird, and when we hear it again it is re- 
membered like a dream, reminding us of a 
previous state of existence. How happens 
it that the associations it awakens are al- 
ways pleasing, never saddening, reminis- 
cences of our sanest hours. The voice of 
nature is always encouraging. 

Early Spring, p. 170. 



A CONTRIBUTION 

TOWARD A 

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THOREAU 

" A truth-speaker he, capable of the most deep and strict conver- 
sation ; a physician to the wounds of any soul." — Emerson. 



PREFACE. 



*' It is the bibliographer who of all men 
has most occasion to realize the imperfec- 
tion of human endeavor. Completeness in 
bibliography is an ignis fatuus that eludes 
even the closest pursuit and the most pains- 
taking endeavor." If such an adept as Mr. 
R. R. Bowker makes the above avowal (and 
it may be found in his preface to the 
"American Catalogue/' 1 885), that fact must 
plead for the 'imperfection*' of this bit of 
'prentice work, which has been done in 
such moments as could be stolen from the 
imperative duties of an arduous profession. 
To be suddenly summoned from searching 
a catalogue to soothe a colic may be ^'busi- 
ness ; " it is hardly bibliographing. 

This '' Contribution " is not the result of 
an *' endeavor " at "completeness." It is 



128 PREFACE. 

simply a thank-offering to Thoreau's memo- 
ry, from one who has been " Hfted up and 
strengthened*' by his example. It was 
compiled in the hope that it might facili- 
tate the study of, and enlarge an acquain- 
tance with, the author of *^the only book 
yet written in America, to my thinking, 
that bears an annual perusal." Standing 
at Thoreau's graveside some twenty-eight 
years ago, Emerson said, — *' The country 
knows not yet, or in least part, how great 
a son it has lost. . . . His soul was made 
for the noblest society ; he had in a short 
life exhausted the capabilities of this world ; 
wherever there is knowledge, wherever 
there is virtue, wherever there is beauty, he 
will find a home.*' There is too much of 
truth in the fear that the man so certified 
" great, intelligent, sensual, avaricious 
America" knows not yet, or in least part. 
There is peril for the soul in such ignorance. 
To those unacquainted with Thoreau, 
this " Contribution " will afford an aid for 
which the compiler would long since have 



PREFACE. 129 

been very grateful. Whatever of worth it 
may have as a contribution is wholly due 
to courtesies received from H. S. Salt, Lon- 
don ; Geo. Willis Cooke ; Wm. C. Lane, 
Harvard College Library ; R. C. Davis, 
Librarian of the University of Michigan ; 
to whom be thanks. 

Ann Arbor, lA^th May^ 1890. 



A CONTRIBUTION TOWARD A 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 

OF 

HENRY DAVID THOREAU. 



PAPERS, POEMS, AND BOOKS BY THOREAU. 

1840. Sympathy. 7">^^i?/^/, i. 71 (July). Reprinted 
in the collection of poems at the close of 
^Letters to Various Persons, 

Aulus Persius Flaccus. The Dial^ i. 117 (July). 
Reprinted in A Week on the Concord and 
Merrimack Rivers^ p. 326. 

1841. Stanzas: "Nature doth have her dawn each 
day." The Dial, i. 314 (January). Reprinted 
in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack 
Rivers, p. 301. 

Sic Vita. The Dial, ii. 81 (July). Reprinted 
in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack 
Rivers, p. 405. 

Friendship. The Dial, ii. 204 (October). Re- 
printed under the title, " Romans, Country- 
men, and Lovers," in the collection of poems 
at the close of Letters to Various Perso7isj 
also in A Week on the Concord and Merri- 
mack Rivers, p. 304. 



132 BIBLIOGRAPHY, 

1842. Natural History of Massachusetts. The Dial, 
iii. 19 (July). Reprinted in Excursions, 

Prayers. The Dial, iii. yy (July). Reprinted 
in A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery 
and Reform Papers, 

The Black Knight. The Dial, iii, 180 (Octo- 
ber). 

The Inward Morning. The Dial, iii. 198 (Oc- 
tober). Reprinted in A Week on the Concord 
and Merrimack Rivers, p. 311. 

Free Love. The Dial, iii. 199 (October). Re- 
printed in A Week on the Concord and Mer- 
7'i7nack Rivers, p. 296. 

The Poet's Delay. The Dial, iii. 200 (Octo- 
ber). Reprinted in A Week on the Concord 
and Merriinack Rivers, p. 364. 

Rumors from an ^olian Harp. The Dial, iii. 
200 (October). Reprinted in A Week on the 
Concord and Merrimack Rivers, p. 185. 

The Moon. The Dial, iii. 222 (October). 

To the Maiden in the East. The Dial, iii. 222 
(October). Reprinted in A Week on the Con- 
cord and Merrimack Rivers, p. 54. 

The Summer Rain. The Dial, iii. 224 (Octo- 
ber). Reprinted in A Week on the Concord 
and Merrimack Rivers, p. 320. 

1843. The Laws of Menu. Selected by H. D. T. 
The Dial, iii. 331 (January). 

The Prometheus Bound. Translated by H. D. 
T. The Dial, iii. 363 (January). 

Anacreon. With translations. The Dial, iii. 
484 (April). Reprinted in A Week on the 
Concord and Merrimack Rivers, p. 238. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY, 1 33 

To a Stray Fowl. The Dial, iii. 505 (April). 

Orphics: Smoke, Haze. The Dial, iii. 505 
(April). Reprinted in the collection of poems 
at the close of Letters to Various Persons; 
also, the former in Walden, p. 271 ; the latter 
in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack 
Rivers, p. 229. 

Dark Ages. The Dial, iii. 527 (April). Re- 
printed in A Week on the Concord and Mer- 
rimack Rivers, pp. 164-168. 

A Winter Walk. The Dial, iv. 211 (October). 
Reprinted in Excursions. 

A Walk to Wachusett. The Boston Miscel- 
lany, Reprinted in Excursions, 

The Landlord. The Democratic Review, xiii. 
427 (October). Reprinted in Excursions, 

Paradise (to be) Regained. The Democratic 
Review, xiii. 451 (November). Reprinted in 
A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery 
and Reform Papers. 

1844. Homer, Ossian, Chaucer; extracts from a 
lecture on poetry, read before the Concord 
Lyceum, November 29, 1843. '^^^ Dial, iv. 
290 (January). 

Pindar. Translations. The Dial, iv, 2,79 Q^^" 

uary). 
Herald of Freedom. The Dial, iv. 507 (April). 

Reprinted in A Yankee in Canada, with 

Anti- Slavery and Reform Papers. 
Fragments of Pindar. The Dial, iv. 513 

(April). 

1845. Wendell Phillips before the Concord Lyceum. 
The Liberator, March 28, Reprinted in A 



134 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Yankee in Canada^ with Anti- Slavery and 
Reform Papers, 

1847. Thomas Carlyle and his works. Graham'' s 
Magazine^ March, April. Reprinted in A 
Yankee in Canada^ with Anti-Slavery and 
Reform Papers. 

1848. Ktaadn and the Maine Woods. The Union 
Magazine, Reprinted in The Maine Woods, 

1849. A Week on the Concord and Merri- 
mack Rivers. Boston and Cambridge: 
James Munroe & Co. Reissued in 1867 by 
Ticknor & Fields. 

Resistance to Civil Government. ^Esthetic 
Papers^ i. 189-21 1. Reprinted with the 
title " Civil Disobedience " in A Yankee in 
Canada^ with Anti- Slavery and Reform 
Papers. 

1853. Excursion to Canada. Putnam'' s Magazine., 
i. 54, 179, 321 (January, February, March). 
Chapters i., ii., iii., of A Yankee in Canada. 

1854. Walden; or, Life in the Woods. Bos- 
ton: Ticknor & Fields. Reissued in 1889 
in two volumes, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 
in The Riverside Aldine Series. 

Slavery in Massachusetts ; an address delivered 
at the anti-slavery celebration at Framing- 
ham, Mass., July 4. The Liberator^ July 21. 
Reprinted in A Yankee in Canada^ with 
A nti-Slavery and Reform Papers. 

1855. Cape Cod. Putnam'' s Magaziiie^ v. 632, 
vi. 59, 157 (June, July, August). Chapters i.- 
iv. of Cape Cod. 

1858. Chesuncook. The Atlantic Monthly^ ii. i, 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 1 35 

224, 305 (June, July, August). Reprinted in 
The Maine Woods. 

1859. ^ P^^^ f^^ Captain John Brown. Read to 
the citizens of Concord, Mass., Sunday even- 
ing, October 30. A Yankee in Canada^ with 
Anti-Slavery and Reform Papers. 

i860. Reminiscences of John Brown. Read at 
North Elba, N. Y., July 4. The Liberator, 
July 27. Reprinted with the title " The Last 
Days of John Brown " in A Yankee in Can- 
ada, with Anti- Slavery and Reform Papers, 
The Succession of Forest Trees ; an address 
read to the Middlesex Agricultural Society 
in Concord, September. The New York 
Weekly Tribune, October 6; also in Middle- 
sex A griculticral Transactions. Reprinted in 
Excursions. 
Remarks at Concord on the day of the execu- 
tion of John Brown. Echoes froin Harper'^s 
Ferry. Boston : Thayer & Eldridge, p. 439, 

1862. Walking. The Atlantic Monthly, ix. 6^"] 
(June). Reprinted in Excursions. 

Autumnal Tints. The Atlantic Monthly, x. 

385 (October). Reprinted in Excursions. 
Wild Apples. The Atlaittic Monthly, x. 313 

(November). Reprinted in Excursions. 

1 863 . Life without Principle. The A tlantic Month- 
ly, xii. 484 (October). Reprinted in A Yan- 
kee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery and Re- 
form Papers. 

Night and Moonlight. The Atlantic Monthly, 
xii. 579 (November). Reprinted in Excicr- 
sio7is. 



136 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

> Excursions. (With biographical sketch by R. 
W. Emerson.) Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 

1864. The Maine Woods. (Edited by W. E. 
Channing.) Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 
N. B. — This volume contains The Allegash 
and East Branch, not before printed. 

The Wellfleet Oysterman. T/ie Atlantic 
Monthly^ xiv. 470 (October). Reprinted in 
Cape Cod. 

The Highland Light. The Atlantic Monthly^ 
xiv. 649 (December). Reprinted in Cape 
Cod. 
* Cape Cod. (EditedbyW. E. Channing.) Bos- 
ton : Ticknor & Fields. [Publisher's date, 
1865.] 

1865. Letters to Various Persons. (Edited 
by R. W. Emerson.) Boston: Ticknor & 
Fields. 

1866. A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Sla- 
very AND Reform Papers. (Edited by 
W. E. Channing.) Boston : Ticknor & 
Fields. 

1878. April Days. The Atlantic Monthly^ xli.445 

(April). 
May Days. The Atlantic Monthly., xli. ^6^ 

(May). 
Days in June. The Atlantic Monthly^ xli. 711 

(June). Reprinted in Su7n7ner. 
1881. Early Spring in Massachusetts: From 

the Journal of Henry D. Thoreau. 

(Edited by H. G. O. Blake,) Boston: 

Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
1884. Summer: From the Journal of Henry 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 1 37 

D. Thoreau. (Edited by H. G. O. Blake.) 
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 

1885. Winter Days. The Atlantic Monthly, Iv. 79 
(January). Reprinted in Winter, pp. 81-107. 

1887. Winter: From the Journal of Henry 
D. Thoreau. (Edited by H. G. O. Blake.) 
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. [Publish- 
er's date, 1888.] 



IL 



books wholly or in part devoted to 

THOREAU. 

1855. Duyckinck, E. A. and G. L. — Henry D. 
Thoreau. Cyclopaedia of American Lit- 
erature, ii. 6s2>-^S^' New York: Charles 
Scribner. 

1857. Curtis, G. W. — Thoreau, Homes of Ameri- 
can Authors, pp. 247-248; 250-251. New 
York: D. Appleton and Company. 

1863. Emerson, R. W. — Biographical Sketch. In 
Thoreau's Excursions. Issued also in 
Complete Works, Riverside edition, x., pp. 
421-452. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 

1866. Alger, W. R. — Thoreau. The Solitudes 
OF Nature and of Man, pp. 329-338. Bos- 
ton: Roberts Brothers. 

1868. Hawthorne, N. — Passages from the 
American Note-Books, ii., pp. 96-99. 
Boston : Ticknor & Fields. 

1871. Lowell, J. R. — Thoreau. My Study Win- 
dows, pp. 193-209. Boston: James R. Os- 
good & Co. 



1 3 8 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

1873. Channing, W. E. — Thoreau : The Poet- 
Naturalist. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 
Alcott, A. B. — Thoreau, Walden Pond, Con- 
cord Days, pp. 11-20, 259-264. Boston: 
Roberts Brothers. 

1877. Page, H. A. (Dr. A. H. J app). — Thoreau : 
His Life and Aims. Boston: James R. 
Osgood & Co. 

1878. Sanborn, F. B. — Memoirs of John 
Brown, pp. 45, 49-51. Concord, Mass. 

1879. Higginson, T. W. — Thoreau. Short Stud- 
ies OF American Authors, pp. 23-31. 
Boston : Lee & Shepard. 

1880. James, Jr., H. — Hawthorne. American 
Men of Letters., pp. 93-94. New York: 
Harper and Brothers. 

1 880. S cudder, H orace E . — Henry David Thoreau, 
American Prose, pp. 296-301. Boston: 
Houghton, Mifflin and Co. 

1 88 1. Flagg, Wilson. — Thoreau. Halcyon Days, 
pp. 164-168. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. 

Cooke, G. W. — Ralph Waldo Emerson: 
His Life, Writings, and Philosophy. 
{Vide Index.) Boston: James R. Osgood & 
Co. 

1882. Conway, M. D. — Thoreau. Emerson at 
Home and Abroad, pp. 279-289. Boston: 
James R. Osgood & Co. 

Alcott, A. B. — Sonnets and Canzonets. 

Boston: Roberts Brothers. 
Nichol, Prof. John. — Thoreau. American 

Literature: An Historical Sketch, 

pp. 3 1 3-321 . Edinburgh : Adam and Charles 

Black. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 139 

Welsh, A. H.~ Thoreau. Development of 
English Literature and Language, ii., 
pp. 409-414. Chicago: S. C. Griggs & Co. 

Burroughs, John. — Thoreau's Wildness. Es- 
says FROM THE Critic, pp. 9-18. Boston: 
James R. Osgood & Co. 

Sanborn, F. B. — Thoreau's Unpublished Po- 
etry. Essays from the Critic, pp. 71-78. 
Boston : James R. Osgood & Co. 

Sanborn, F. B. — Reading frorn Thoreau's 
Manuscripts. Concord Lectures on Phi- 
losophy, pp. 124-126. Cambridge: Moses 
King, 

1883. Sanborn, F. B. — Henry D. Thoreau. 
American Men of Letters. Boston: Hough- 
ton, Mifflin & Co. 

1884. Hawthorne, Julian. — Nathaniel Haw- 
thorne AND His Wife: A Biography. 
(Vide Index.) Cambridge: James R. Os- 
good & Co. 

1885. Sanborn, F. B. — Life and Letters of 
John Brown. (F/^^ Index.) Boston: Rob- 
erts Brothers. 

Holmes, O. W. — Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
(Vide Index.) American Men of Letters. 
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 

1886. Stevenson, R. L. — Henry David Thoreau: 
His Character and Opinions, Familiar 
Studies of Men and Books, pp. 1 29-1 71. 
London : Chatto & Windus. 

Dircks, W. H. — Thoreau. An Introductory 
Note in Walden. Camelot Classics. Lon- 
don : Walter Scott. 



I40 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Garnett, Richard. — An Introductory Note in 
My Study Windows. Camelot Classics. 
London : Walter Scott. 

1887. Cabot, James Elliot. — A Memoir of Ralph 
Waldo Emerson, i., p. 282. Boston: Hough- 
ton, Mifflin & Co. 

Haskins, David Green. — Ralph Waldo 
Emerson: His Maternal Ancestors, 
pp. 1 19-122. Boston: Cupples, Upham & 
Co. 

Whipple, E. P. — American Literature and 
Other Papers, pp. 1 1 i-i 12. Boston : Tick- 
nor & Co. 

Beers, Prof. Henry A. — Henry David Thoreau, 
An Outline Sketch of American Lit- 
erature, pp. 143-148. New York : Chautau- 
qua Press. 

Carpenter, Edward. — England's Ideal, pp. 
13-14. London : Swan, Sonnenschein, Low- 
rey & Co. 

1888. Garnett, Richard. — Life of Ralph Waldo 
Emerson, pp. 157-159. Great Writers' Se- 
ries. London: Walter Scott. 

Besant, Walter. — The Eulogy of Richard 
Jefferies, pp. 221-225. London : Long- 
mans, Green & Co. 

Salt, H. S. — Literary Sketches. London: 
Swan, Sonnenschein, Lowrey & Co. 

1889. Emerson, E. W. — Emerson in Concord. 
(Vide Index.) Boston: Houghton, Mifflin 
& Co. 

Burroughs, John. — Indoor Studies, pp. 1-42. 
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. I41 

Dircks, W. H. — Thoreau* A Preparatory 

Note in A Week on the Concord and 

Merrimac \sic\ Rivers, pp. v-xviii. Came- 

lot Classics. London : Walter Scott. 
Frothingham, O. B. — Thoreau., Henry David. 

Cyclopaedia of American Biography, 

vi., pp. loo-ioi. New York: D. Appleton 

and Company. 
Hubert, Jr., Philip G. — Henry David Thoreau, 

Liberty and a Living, pp. 1 71-190. New 

York and London : G. P. Putnam's Sons. 
1890. Jones, Dr. S. A. — Thoreau: a Glimpse. 

With a Bibliography. Ann Arbor: No 

publisher. 
Ellis, Havelock. — The New Spirit, pp.90- 

99. London : George Bell & Sons. 
Charles J. Woodbury. — Thoreau, Talks 

WITH Ralph Waldo Emerson, pp. 69-94. 

London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner & 

Co., Ltd. 
The same. New York: Baker & Taylor Co. 
Salt, H. S. — The Life of Henry David 

Thoreau. London: Richard Bentley & 

Son. 

in. 

magazine articles. 

1849. George Ripley. — A Week on the Concord 
and Merrimack Rivers. The New York 
Tribune, 
J. R. Lowell. — A Week on the Concord and 
Merrimack Rivers. Massachusetts Quar- 
terly Review., iii., ix. (December), 40-51. 



142 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Riv- 
ers. Athenceum (October 27). 

1854. A. P. Peabody. — Walden : or Life in the 
Woods. North American Review^ bcxix. 
536. 

C. F. Briggs. — A Yankee Diogenes. Put- 
nam'' s Magazine^ iv. 443. 

1855. Edwin Morton, — Thoreau and his Books. 
The Harvard Magazine^ i. No. ii. (January), 
87-99. [F/^<? Sanborn's Thoreau, "Ameri- 
can Men of Letters," pp. 195-199.] 

A Rural Humbug. Knickerbocker Magazine^ 
xlv. 235. 
1857. An American Diogenes. Chambers* Edin- 
burgh Journal^ xxviii. 330. 
1862. G. W. Curtis. — Reminiscences of Thoreau. 
Harper'' s Magazine^ xxv. 270. 
R. W. Emerson. — -Thoreau. Atlantic Month- 
ly, X. 239. 

1864. T. W. Higginson. — The Maine Woods. At- 
lantic Monthly, xiv. 386. 

The Transcendentalists of Concord. Fraser'^s 
Magazine, Ixx. 245. [Same article in Eclec- 
tic Magazine, Ixiii. 231 ; LittelVs Living 
Age, Ixxxiii. 99, 178.] 

An American Rousseau. Saturday Review 
(December 3). 

1865. T. W. Higginson. — Cape Cod. Atlantic 
Monthly, xv. 381. 

T. W. Higginson. — Letters to Various Persons. 

Atlantic Mo7tthly, xvi. 504. 
J. A. Weiss. — Thoreau. Christian Examiner, 

Ixxix. 96. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY, 1 43 

W. R. Alger. — Thoreau. Monthly Religious 
Magazine^ xxxv. 382. 

M. D. Conway. — Thoreau. Fraser's Maga- 
zine^ Ixxiii. 447. [Same article in Eclectic 
Magazine^ Ixvii. 180 (1886); Every Satur- 
day, i. 622 (1886).] 

J. R. Lowell. — " Letters to Various Persons." 
By Henry D. Thoreau. North American 
Review, ci. 597. 

1869. G. W. Curtis. — Further Reminiscences of 
Thoreau. Harper's Magazine, xxxv'in. ^iS- 

1870. J. R. Lowell. — Thoreau. Every Saturday, 
X. 166. 

1873. Thoreau. British Quarter ly,\\x.i^i. [Same 
article in LitteWs Living Age, cxx. 643 ; 
Eclectic Magazine, Ixxxii. 305.] 

1874. Henry Thoreau, the Poet-Naturalist. Brit- 
ish Quarterly (January). 

Ellery Chahning's Thoreau. The Nation 
(January 8). 

1875. Miss H. R. Hudson. — Concord Books. 
Harper'' s Magazine, li. 18. 

1877. M.Collins. — Thoreau. Dublin University 
Magazine, xc. 610. 

T. Hughes. — Study of Thoreau. Eclectic Mag- 
azine, xc. 114. 

Theodore Watts. — Article in Athenceum (No- 
vember 17). 

1878. J. V. O'Connor. — Henry D. Thoreau and 
New England Transcendentalism. Catholic 
World, xxvii. 289. 

1879. The Pity and Humor of Thoreau. LittelVs 
Living Age, cxlvi. 190. 



144 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

R. L. Stevenson. — Henry David Thoreau : His 
Character and Opinions. Cornhill Maga- 
zine^ xli. (y6^. [Same article in LittelV s Liv- 
ing Age ^ cxlvi. 179; Eclectic Magazine^ xcv. 
257 (1880).] 

1880. W. S. Kennedy. — A New Estimate of 
Henry D. Thoreau. Penn Monthly^ xi. 794. 

Philosophy at Concord. The Nation (Septem- 
ber 2). 

W. S. Kennedy. — A New Estimate of Tho- 
reau. Penn Monthly^ ii. 794. 

1881. Thoreau's Portrait. By himself. The Liter- 
ary IVorM (Boston), xii. 116-117 (March 26). 

F. B. Sanborn. — Henry David Thoreau. The 
Harvard Register, iii . 21 4-2 1 7 (April) . Por- 
trait, 

1882. John Burroughs. — Henry D. Thoreau. The 
Century, ii. (New Series), 368. 

John Burroughs. — Thoreau's Wildness. Critic, 
i. 74. 

F. B. Sanborn. — Thoreau's UnpubHshed Po- 
etry. Critic, i. 75. 

Portraits of Thoreau with a Beard. Critic, i. 

95- 
Henry D. Thoreau: Sanborn's Life of. The 

Nation, xxxv. 34. 

Henry D. Thoreau: Sanborn's Life of. Lit- 
erary J^^r/^ (Boston), xiii. 227. 

Henry D. Thoreau: Sanborn's Life of. Athe- 
ncBum, ii. (of the year), 558. 

J. A. Janvier. — Henry D. Thoreau : Sanborn's 
Life of. American, iv. 218. 

Henry D. Thoreau: Sanborn's Life of. Aca- 
detny, ii. 271. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY, I45 

Theodore Watts. — Article in Athencsum (Oc- 
tober 28). 

1883. H. N. Powers. — H. D. Thoreau. Dial (Chi- 
cago), iii. 70. 

Henry D. Thoreau. Spectator^ Ivi. 239. 

1884. Walter Lewin. — "Summer: From the Jour- 
nal of Henry D. Thoreau." The Nation^ 
xxvi. 193. 

" Summer: From the Journal of Henry D. Tho- 
reau." Literary IVor/d (Boston), xv. 223. 

1885. Henry D. Thoreau. Spectator, Iviii. 122. 

J. Benton. — Thoreau's Poetry. Lippincotf s 

Magazine, xxxvii. 491. 
G. Willis Cooke. — The Dial. Journal of 

Speculative Philosophy (July). 

1886. H. S. Salt. — Henry D. Thoreau. Temple 
Bar, Ixxviii. 369. Reprinted, 1888, in Liter- 
ary Sketches, by H. S. Salt. London : Swan, 
Sonnenschein, Lowrey & Co. 

1887. H. S. Salt. — Henry D. Thoreau. Eclectic 
Magazine, cviii. 89. 

H. S. Salt. — Henry D. Thoreau. The Critic, 
ii. 276, 289. From Temple Bar, 

A. H. Japp. — Henry David Thoreau. The 
Welcome (November). 

1888. Henry D. Thoreau. Good Words, xxix. 445. 
Grant Allen. — A Sunday at Concord. Fort- 
nightly Review (May). 

1 889. John Burroughs. — Henry D. Thoreau. Chau- 
tauquan, ix. 530. 

" Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers." 
Saturday Review, Ixviii. 195. 

1890. S.A.Jones. — Thoreau: A Glimpse. The 
Unitarian, v. 2, 3, 4 (February, March, April). 



146 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

H. S. Salt. — Thoreau's Poetry. The Art Re- 

view (London), i. 5 (May). 
C. J. Woodbury. — Emerson's Talks with a 

College Boy. The Century (February). 



\ 



INDEX. 



Activity, be warmed by, 80. 
Actual, the ideal needs but slight 

support in the, 65. 
Adventure, an, in the mind rather 

than in the thing done, 80. 
Advice, a friend's, iii. 
Adviser, the true, 75. 
Affairs, slavery to, 14 ; life not to 

be lost in the complexity of, 16 ; 

life wasted in, 17 ; the mind not 

to be desecrated by gossip and, 

lOI. 

Affection, the reserve of, 37 ; and 
sloth, 60. 

Aim, the higher the, the more ear- 
nest must be the work, 71 ; the 
constant elevation of our, 96. 

Animal food offends the imagina- 
tion, 6. 

Appeal, to the highest, direct, 45 ; 
to the highest within you, 68. 

Appetite, the quality of the, 
makes the sensualist, 8. 

Appreciation, the best, is discrim- 
inating, 53. 

Aspirations, a friend cherishes 
one's highest, 38 ; we can re- 
spect our, 44 ; the helpful friend 
encourages our, 65 ; let love 
rest on common, n8; in the 
spring, 121. 

Authorship of poetry, the, 104. 

Awake, morning is whenever we 
are truly, 15 ; no one is thor- 
oughly, 16. 

Battle in behalf of sane thinking, 

the, 81. 
Beasts, delicacy of the distinction 

between men and, 9. 
Beauty, give to the day, from the 

beauty within, 16 ; unconscious- 



ness of, 70 ; the, or misery, of 
life in our thoughts, 83. 

Bluebird, the warble of the, 115, 
122. 

Body, care for the, compared with 
care for the soul, 64 ; a warm, 
and a cold spirit, 69 ; eats up 
the soul's substance, 103. 

Book, always room for a true, 107 ; 
cannot match nature, 120. 

Books, how to read the heroic, 
20 ; how true ones should be 
read, 21 ; wildness of the best, 
91 ; read the best first, 105. 

Border life between nature and 
society, a, 92. 

Bow, a, which no humbler archer 
can bend, 72. 

Bread, the true, 45 ; the taste of 
that which we earn, 46 ; to truly 
earn our, we must satisfy God 
for it, 64 ; better starve than 
lose innocence in getting, 98. 

Burdens, all, become light to the 
courageous, 74. 

Cares, worldly, forgotten in a true 
walk, 88. 

Character, work essential to, 29 ; 
the victory of, 29 ; manners 
apart from, 103. 

Charity which hides a multitude 
of sins, overflowing love the, 
12. 

Classics, what are the, 21. 

Cold and hunger, 97. 

Companionship, the most satis- 
factory, 4. 

Complaint, the shallowness of, 
86. 

Contentment with the life as- 
signed us, 116. 



148 



INDEX. 



Convictions, our deepest, un- 
changeable, 79. 

Courage, 74, 85. 

Creation a poem to open ears, 
the, 14. 

Crop, the best, which a farm af- 
fords, 13. 

Culture, humility enriches the 
soul more than, 27. 

Darkness, pondering over the 
deeds of, 87. 

Dawn, expectation of the, 16 ; 
more day to, 29; the inward, 
40 ; the true, 69. 

Deed, each, determined by the 
whole life, 110. 

Demand we make upon each 
other, the low, 99. 

Differences, friends must be si- 
lent about constitutional, 39 ; 
the real, between friends can- 
not be explained away, 39, 

Dilettanteism, 71. 

Dishonesty worse than depen- 
dence, 26. 

Dissipation, one's proper work 
and, 86. 

Distinction between men and 
beasts, the delicacy of the, 9. 

" Do what you love," 44. 

Dreadful thing, the, not outside 
of us, 75. 

Dream, realize your, 24 ; ^ our 
faintest, points to the solidest 
reality, 43. 

Dreams, the realization of, 43 ; 
the solidest facts that we know, 
43. 

Dreariness, outward, 90. 

Earnest, the, not hindered by tri- 
fles, 54. 

Earning a living, the delight of 
really, 46 ; earning money mere- 
ly^ the evil of, 95. 

Earth and heaven, the laws of, 
harmonize, 48. 

Economy, the only cure for the 
nation, as for the household, 
17- 

El Dorado, a man's, is where he 
lives, 81. 

Elevation of our aim, the con- 
stant, 96. 

Elysium or Tophet, a man's, in 
himself, 84. 

Employment, exalted, 51. 



Enjoyment, the true, 89. 
Enjoyments, poverty need not 

take from us the purest, 26. 
Estrangement, 33. 
Exercise, true walking is not for, 

88. 
Existence, gratitude for the sense 

of, 78. 
Expectations, divine, 51. 
Experience, a glorious, cannot be 

left behind, 54. 
Expression, extravagance of, 24; 

the rarity of perfect, 105. 
Eye, the human, 56. 

Failure, real success or, is in our 

thoughts, 82. 
Faith IS earned by faithfulness, 

47. 

Faithfulness rather than know- 
ledge saves the soul, 63. 

False position, why we are com- 
monly in a, 25. 

Farm, the best crop which one 
affords, 13. 

Fastidious, one should be ex- 
tremely, 98. 

Faults, the toleration of, an ob- 
stacle to friendship, 34 ; the, of 
our friends must be lost in 
love, 39 ; the true lover would 
not hide his, 59. 

Fidelity in work, 28. 

Flower, a, the symbol of pure 
love, 62. 

Flowers, a lesson from the, iii. 

Freedom, political, but a means, 
103. 

Friend, the actual, but a sugges- 
tion of the ideal, 30; nourishes 
the soul, 30; the true educator, 
31 ; the only radical reformer, 
31 ; associated with our choi- 
cest thought, 34 ; no slight ob- 
stacle can keep one from a, 35 ; 
cherishes one's highest aspira- 
tions, 38 ; the faults of, must 
be lost in love, 39 ; leaves the 
sweetest consolation at his 
death, 41 ; enhances every- 
thing, 60 ; the helpful, encour- 
ages our aspirations, 65 ; does 
not limit our vision, 73 ; we 
must love our, as we love God, 
113 ; the delight of intercourse 
with a, 116. 

Friends, are not selected, 33 ; not 
anxious to please each other. 



INDEX. 



149 



33 ; help each other's loftiest 
dreams, 33 ; good will is neces- 
sary, not conscious, between, 
34; do not ask to be appreci- 
ated, 37 ; silence is understood 
between, 37; must be silent 
about constitutional differ- 
ences, 39 ; the real differences 
between, cannot be explained 
away, 39 ; civility between, 41 ; 
he who obeys his genius can- 
not lose his, 52 ; deal in pure 
truth with each other, 61 ; 
must meet erectly, 68; found 
in solitude, 81. 
Friendship, a thing outside of hu- 
man institutions, 30 ; the dream 
of all, 30 ; no respecter of sex, 
34; the toleration of faults an 
obstacle to, 34 ; the purest, the 
most unconscious, 35 ; the lan- 
guage of, 35 ; requires wisdom 
as well as tenderness, 35 ; is not 
conscious kindliness, 35 ; is in 
the interest of humanity, 36 ; are 
any noble enough for a lasting ? 
36 ; only between what is high- 
est in each, 38 ; and the love of 
nature harmonize, 40 ; in na- 
ture, 53. 

Genius, the slightest intimations 
of one's, to be regarded, 7 ; the 
organs of one's, reinvigorated 
by healthful sleep, 15 ; the mis- 
ery of disobedience to our, 47 ; 
he who obeys his, cannot lose 
his friends, 52. 

Getting a living, living and, should 
be alike beautiful, 97; the or- 
dinary modes of, hostile to true 
life, 97. 

God most truly found when not 
consciously sought, 49. 

Gold, or wisdom, 97 ; where alone 
the true, is to be found, 67. 

Good will is necessary, not con- 
scious, between friends, 34. 

Goodness, unconscious, 87. 

Gossip and affairs, the mind not 
to be desecrated by, loi. 

Grade th^ ground before you 
build, 84. 

Gratitude for the sense of exis- 
tence, 78. 

Hearing, there must be good, to 
make a good reader, 112. 



Heart, the, forever inexperienced, 

29. 
Heaven, the purest love a glimpse 

of, 32 ; the laws of earth and, 

harmonize, 48. 
Hebe preferred to Hygeia, 6. 
Hibernation of the poet, the, 105. 
Highest, aim ever at the, 25 ; 

wealth does not help^ us in the 

pursuit of the, 27 ; within you, 

appeal to the, 68. 
History not to be read critically, 

108. 
Hope, for ourselves, 54 ; the great, 

that gives value to life, 93. 
Hospitality, in manners, not in 

"entertainment," 28; the cost 

of, to our best thoughts, 82. 
Hours, above time, 104; of reso- 
lution, 106. 
Human race, sympathy of nature 

with the, 5. 
Humanity before Nature, 74; no 

wisdom can take the place of, 

no. 
Humility enriches the soul more 

than culture, 27. 
Hunger, and thirst of body and 

soul, 64 ; and cold, 97. 
Hyena, a, more easily tamed than 

a friend, 40. 

Ideal, our, shames our best ef- 
forts, 52 ; the, needs but slight 
support in the actual, 65 ; how 
the ideal transfigures a person, 
66. 

Ideas, success comes from devo- 
tion to, 85. 

Ignorance, knowledge sometimes 
worse than, 91 ; an advantage 
of, 1 12. 

Imagination, animal food offends 
the, 6 ; must not be offended in 
love, 58. 

Immortality, mortality and, 20. 

Impulses, respect your, 114. 

Industry, the comfort of, 69. 

Influence, unconscious, 53. 

Innocence, a spontaneous, above 
virtue, no. 

Inspiration, through the palate, 
8 ; science should be allied to, 
102. 

Institutions, truth and, 104. 

Intellect, use of the, 19. 

Intercourse, too much shallow, 4 ; 
shallow, 100. 



I50 



INDEX. 



Invitation, the, of morning, 14; 
genuine, 35. 

Inward life, we sKould be awak- 
ened each morning by new, 15. 

Justice, society content with a 
too narrow, 32. 

Kingdom of God, the, cometh not 
with observation, 118. 

Know thyself, 23. 

Knowledge, faithfulness saves the 
soul rather than, 63 ; some- 
times worse than ignorance, 
9 1 ; aim above, 92 ; activity, 
free and loving, the highest, 
92. 

Labor, how physical, may help 
the writer, 106. 

Landscape, nature prevails over 
man in a large, 89. 

Language of religion, religion 
without the, 99. 

Law, if ye be led by the spirit, ye 
are not under the, 45 ; human 
and divine, 122. 

Laws, the, of earth and heaven 
harmonize, 48. 

Leisure, the glory of, 94; divine, 
109, 

Life, the moral quality of nature 
and, 8 ; strike at the root of so- 
cial ills by purifying your own, 
II ; make the most of what is 
good in, 14 ; a new, each day, 
14; we should be awakened 
each morning by new inward, 
IS ; real, 16 ; not to be lost in 
the complexity of affairs;, 16 ; 
wasted in affairs, 17; make the 
best of your own, 26; no real, 
without love, 40 ; simplify the 
problem of, 42 ; can express 
whatever words can, 44 ; cling 
to the thread of, 47 ; a balanced, 
48 ; too high a demand cannot 
be made upon, 50 ; danger of 
undervaluing, 50 ; wealth com- 
plicates the problem of, 63; 
simplicity of, not an end, but a 
means, 76 ; the beauty or mi- 
sery of, in our thoughts, 83 ; 
consists with wildness, 90 ; the 
great hope that gives value to, 
93 ; out-door, 94 ; sacrificed to 
the newspaper, 100 ; each deed 
determined by the whole, 110; 



essential, not to be probed, 114 ; 
contentment with that assigned 
us, 116. 

Light, turn towards the, 117. 

Live deliberately, ig. 

Lives, we must account for our, 
76 ; the doubleness of our, 78. 

Living, plain, 17; the delight of 
really earning a, 46; and get- 
ting a living should be alike 
beautiful, 97. 

Loneliness, the, of false society, 
72. 

Love, overflowing, the charity 
which hides a multitude of sins, 
12; hearty truth is one with, 
32 ; the purest, a glimpse of 
heaven, 32 ; a hero's, delicate 
as a maiden's, 34; no real life 
without, 40 ; is implacable, 42 ; 
wisdom and, essential to each 
other, 55 ; should be ascend- 
ing, 57 ; shun a descending, 57 ; 
true, most clear-sighted, 57 ; the 
imagination must not be of- 
fended in, 58 ; demands the ut- 
most directness, 59 ; no lower 
engagement can stand in the 
way of, 59 ; no treasure to be 
compared with, 60 ; its object 
expands, 60 ; genuine, elevates 
and strengthens, 61 ; must be 
vigilant to retain its purity, 62 ; 
a flower the symbol of pure, 
62 ; the joy of, and of intel- 
lectual perception, 62; pure, 
the radical reformer, 63 ; not 
to be doubted, 87 ; let it rest 
on common aspiration, 118; 
no truth without, 12 1 ; disinter- 
ested, 121. 

Lover, the most ardent, a little 
reserved, 56 ; the, hears things, 
not words, 58; the true, would 
not hide his faults, 59. 

Lovers must understand each 
other without words, 58. 

Man, the earnest, irresistible, 47; 
as a, thinketh, so is he, 52; 
never discovers anything ^ but 
himself, 85 ; the truly efficient, 

95- 
Mankind, the art of, is to polish 

the world, 71. 
Manners, hospitality in, not in 

" entertainment," 28 ; apart 

from character, 103. 



INDEX. 



151 



Marriage, both common and di- 
vine sense should be consulted 

in» 57- . r , 

Marriages, the rarity of real, 56. 

Melancholy, yield not to, in the 
upward path, 51. 

Men, and beasts, delicacy of the 
distinction between, 9 ; ask too 
seldom to be nobly dealt with, 
31 ; may punish us for satisfy- 
ing God, 64 ; the limited views 
of, 98. 

Mind, an adventure in the, rather 
than in the thing done, 80 ; not 
to be desecrated by gossip and 
affairs, loi ; let your, be open 
to the best, 102. 

Money, not necessary for the soul, 
27 ; the evil of earning, merely^ 

95- 
Moods, work in spite of, 72. 
Moral quality of nature and life, 

the, 8. ^ 

Morning, the invitation of, 14 ; is 

whenever we are truly awake, 

Mortality and immortality, 20. 

Moimtains, the, within us, 77. 

Muse, the, should lead, the un- 
derstanding follow, 49 ; too 
plaintive, no. 

Music, you hear, step to the, 24 ; 
exalting effect of, 41 ; the sig- 
nificance of, 108 ; the sound of 
the universal laws promulgated, 
108; has no history, 115. 

Nature, our double, 3 ; sympathy 
of, with the human race, 5 ; the 
moral quality of, and life, 8; 
friendship and the love of, har- 
monize, 40; friendship in, 53; 
humanity before, 74; poverty 
of outward, 77 ; prevails over 
man in a large landscape, 89; 
no poetry so wild as, 91 ; a 
border life between society and, 
92 ; vision through the works of 
man to the wildness of, 93 ; few 
speak simply enough of, 106 ; 
the promise in the face of, 119; 
no book can match, 120; on the 
side of what is best in us, 123. 

Necessaries, providing, a -plea- 
sure, 69. 

Neighbor, our nearest, 3. 

Neighborhood, the best, 2. 

News, as compared with eternal 



truth, the, 17; the kind of, we 

really want, 50. 
Newspaper, life sacrificed to the, 

100 ; a world outside of the, 

100. 
Newspapers, 48. 
Noble, the offspring of the, tend 

to a higher nobility, 63. 

Obscurity above better than false 

clearness below, 68. 
Offspring of the noble tend to a 

higher nobility, 63. 
Out-door life, 94. 

Palate, inspiration through the, 8. 

Path, a person irresistible on his 
own, 28. 

Perception, the joy of love and of 
intellectual, 62. 

" Plain living and high think- 
ing,-' 17. 

Poet, the hibernation of the, 105. 

Poetry, no, so wild as nature, 91 ; 
the authorship of, 104. 

Polishing the world, 71. 

Postponement, fatal, 75. 

Poverty, need not take from us 
the purest enjoyments, 26 ; ad- 
vantage of, 27 ; inward, 52 ; of 
nature and internal wealth, 

n- 

Present, living in the, 22. 
Problem of life, simplify the, 42 ; 

wealth complicates the, 63. 
Prospect, the interest of a new, 

Purification of a soul gives it a 

new life, the, 11, 
Purity, inspires the soul, 9 ; and 

sensuality each a single thing, 

10. 
Purpose, singleness of, 119. 

Reader, there must be good hear- 
ing to make a good, 112. 

Reading, the best kind of, i. 

Reality, what alone has, 18 ; the 
great, is ever here and now, 
18 ; seek to penetrate through 
surfaces to, 19; our faintest 
dream points to the solidest, 
43- 

Realm within, the glory of the, 
23. 

Reform, individual life the true 
source of, 44; is better than its 
modes, 44. ' 



152 



INDEX, 



Reformer, what saddens the, 12 ; 

the friend the only radical, 31 ; 

pure love the radical, 63. 
Religion, without the language of 

religion, 99; the privacy of, 

120. 
Reproof, unconscious, 113. 
Reserve, the lover's, 56. 
Resolution, hours of, 106. 
Rest for the soul , 49. 
Ripeness, not merely the means, 

114. 

Sanity, our own cheerful, most 
helpful to others, 12. 

Science, the soul above, 91 ; 
should be allied to inspiration, 
102. 

Sculptor, every one a, 10. 

Self-renunciation, 49. 

Self-respect, 67. 

Sense, both common and divine, 
should be consulted in mar- 
riage, 57. 

Sensualist, the quality of the ap- 
petite makes the, 8. 

Sensuality, purity and, each a 
single thing, 10. 

Simplicity of life not an end, but 
a means, 76. 

Sin, work a help against, 10. 

Sincerity, a rare virtue, 76. 

Singleness of purpose, 119. 

Sky-lights, 55.^ 

Slavery to affairs, 14. 

Sleep, the organs of one's genius 
reinvigorated by healthful, 15 ; 
good and bad, 107. 

Sloth and affection, 60. 

Social ills, strike at the root of, 
by purifying your own life, 11. 

Society, in solitude, i ; content 
with a too narrow justice, 32 ; 
the loneliness of false, 72 ; help- 
ful, 77; use all the, that will 
abet you, 78 ; a border life be- 
tween nature and, 92 ; solitude 
and, 117. 

Solitude, society in, 1 ; the value 
of, 5 ; appetite for, 80 ; friends 
found in, 81 ; and society, 117 ; 
of a human soul, the, 118. 

Solvent for the world, thought a. 

Soul, purity inspires the, 9; the 
purification of a, gives it a new 
life, 11; humility enriches the, 
more than culture, 27; money 



not necessary for the, 27; a 
friend nourishes the, 30; rest 
for the, 49 ; faithfulness rather 
than knowledge saves the, 63 ; 
care for the body compared 
with care for the, 64 ; value of a 
clear, compared with material 
gains, 67 ; above science, 91 ; 
the body eats up the substance 
of the, 103 ; the solitude of a 
human, 118. 

Souls, how finite unlikeness iso- 
lates, 73. 

Spirit, a warm body and a cold, 
69. 

Spring, the influence of, 22 ; water 
in early, 119 ; aspirations in the, 
121. 

Standard, the, within us, 112. 

Stars, two solitary, determined to 
one pole, 41. 

State, the most precious produc- 
tions of a, 103. 

Stress, lay the most, on that which 
is most important, 76. 

Style in writing, 79. 

Success, real, 65 ; real, or failure 
is in our thoughts, 82 ; comes 
from devotion to ideas, 85. 

Suicide, intellectual and moral, 

lOI. 

Swamps, the attractiveness of, 
90. 

Sympathy of nature with the hu- 
man race, 5. 

Things correspond to our highest 
idea, 74. 

Thinking, sane, the battle in be- 
half of, 81 ; right, irresistible, 
83 ; wild, delights us, 90.^ 

Thought, the most indefinite, sig- 
nificant, 67 ; a solvent for the 
world, 83; the realm of, laid 
waste by worldly living, 93 ; 
the compliment of valuing 
one's, 94 ; the source of, above 
ourselves, iii. 

Thread of life, cling to the, 47. 

Time, the shallow stream of, 20 ; 
not an ingredient of a perfect 
work, 25 ; hours above, 104. 

Tophet, a man's Elysium or, in 
himself, 84. 

Trifles, the earnest not hindered 
by, 54- , _ 

Truth, the news as compared with 
eternal, 17; the simplicity of, 



INDEX. 



153 



25; hearty, is one with love, 
32; friends deal in pure, with 
each other, 61 ; and institutions, 
104; no, without love, 121. 
Truthfulness, 59. 

Ugly facts may be eradicated from 
the life of man, 46. 

Union, the highest, 66 ; yourself 
and myself lost in, 66; ideal, 
66. 

Universe, the, conforms to our 
highest ideas, 23. 

Unknown, explore the, by mend- 
ing your ways, 86. 

Unlikeness, how finite, isolates 
souls, 73. 

Value of a clear soul compared 
with material gains, 67. 

Views of men, the limited, 98. 

Virtue, a spontaneous innocence 
above, 110. 

Walk, the ideal of a, 87 ; worldly 
cares forgotten in a true, 88. 

Walker, a true, made so by the 
grace of God, 88. 

Walking, true, is not for exercise. 



Wants, artificial, enslave us, 96. 

Water in the early spring, 119. 

Wealth, the true, 13; does not 
help in our pursuit of the high- 
est, 27 ; complicates the prob- 
lem of life, 63 ; poverty of na- 
ture and internal, 77 ; real, n6. 

Wildness, 22 ; the charm of, 89 ; 
life consists with, 90. 

Wisdom, and love, essential to 
each other, 55 ; cannot take the 
place of humanity, no. 

Words, indefinite, may be most 
significant, 24. 

Work, a help against sin, 10 ; fidel- 
ity in, 28 ; essential to character, 
29 ; necessity of, 70 ; high re- 
sults of, 71 ; the higher the aim, 
the more earnest must be the, 
71 ; in spite of moods, ^2 ; one's 
proper, and dissipation, 86 ; for 
work's sake, 95. 

World, the art of mankind is to 
polish the, 71. 

Writer, how physical labor may 
help the, 106. 

Writing, style in, 79. 

Yourself and myself lost in the 
highest union, 66. 






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